#wrinkled time playboy

[artcallednaturalviews]

No matter how hard I try, the ramblings of an old senile screaming “Oh Canada”, tells me his inner playboy is rumbling it’s an earthquake RumpT, mental capacity!

This playboy is decrepit in drawings and plans for(e) a take over.

Wrinkled time playboy.

Oh Canada Oh Panama Canal Oh Greenland Oh Mexico

The places up North & places down South

Eventually

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Under the Gotham Moon

Bruce Wayne x reader

Smut/Fluff

Warnings: none

The night was thick with the scent of rain-soaked asphalt and the faint aroma of luxury lingering in the air. From the balcony of Wayne Manor, you had a perfect view of Gotham’s skyline, a jagged silhouette against the silvery light of the moon. Bruce Wayne, your husband, stood beside you, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit that only added to his enigmatic charm. Though the world knew him as the billionaire playboy, to you, he was simply Bruce—the man who had captured your heart.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you asked, leaning on the cold marble railing, your eyes sparkling like the stars above.

He turned to you, his deep-set eyes softened by the glow of the moonlight. “It is,” he replied, his voice a low timbre that sent shivers down your spine. “But it’s nothing compared to you.”

A smile tugged at your lips, your heart racing at his words. You were accustomed to compliments, but when they came from Bruce, they carried a weight that made you feel cherished—desired.

“Flattery won’t get you out of trouble tonight,” you teased, glancing back at the elegant dining table set for two inside the sprawling estate. The remnants of dinner lay before you; an expertly prepared meal that had been overshadowed by the evening's growing tension. You felt it in the air, a magnetic pull between the two of you, palpable and electric.

Bruce’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a serious look that made your breath catch. He stepped closer, closing the space between you, his gaze intent. “I can’t help it,” he said softly, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “You deserve every bit of admiration I can muster.”

Your heart raced as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was tender yet ignited a fire within you. It deepened almost instinctively, as if your bodies remembered the way they fit together. He tasted of rich whiskey and something uniquely Bruce—a hint of danger and courage wrapped in warmth.

When he finally pulled away, you felt breathless. His forehead rested against yours, and in the silence, you could hear the distant hum of the city below.

“I want you tonight,” you whispered, emboldened by the intimacy of the moment. Bruce’s eyes flickered with desire, igniting a spark of mischief.

“Good,” he replied, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Because I’ve been waiting for the right time.”

You wrinkled your brow in playful disbelief. “You mean all those romantic dinners were just a lead-up to this?”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and soothing. “Not just any night—tonight feels… different. The world is quiet, and it’s just us.” His hands found your waist, pulling you closer. “I want to share everything with you.”

With a swift motion, he swept you into his arms, and you squealed in surprise. He carried you back inside, his strength comforting and intoxicating. The dimly lit room felt like your own private sanctuary, far removed from the chaos of Gotham.

He set you down gently, but the intensity in his gaze told you that this would not be a gentle night.

As you moved to the couch, he followed, his body a shadow over yours. You could feel the heat radiating from him, warming the chilled air around you. His fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to expose your neck. He pressed soft, teasing kisses along your collarbone, each one awakening a longing deep within.

“Bruce…” you breathed, feeling your body respond to his every touch. You craved more, wanted to lose yourself in him completely.

“Everything you feel, I feel it too,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment.”

With careful precision, he unfastened the buttons of your blouse, letting the fabric fall open to reveal the delicate lace of your bra. His breath hitched, and his gaze darkened as he took in the sight of you, exposed and vulnerable beneath him.

You reached for him, your fingers trailing down his chest, grazing over the hardened contours of his muscles. “Then make me yours, Bruce,” you urged, your voice barely a whisper.

A low growl escaped his throat, and with surprising gentleness, he pushed you back against the cushions, his lips never leaving your skin as he continued to explore. The evening unfolded like a dream; every caress ignited sensations you never knew existed.

Time slipped away as you lost yourselves in each other, the rest of the world fading into nothingness. There was only the rise and fall of your breaths, the heat of his body against yours, and the fervor of shared yearning.

With every kiss, every touch, he reminded you just how much you meant to him. You were no longer just Bruce Wayne’s wife; you were his confidante, his partner in crime, and his greatest passion.

Eventually, he pulled away momentarily, looking deep into your eyes, searching for your consent. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice hoarse with need and concern.

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

With that reassurance, he reclaimed your lips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The world dissolved into a haze of pleasure and trust, your bodies entwined beneath the soft glow of the moon.

As the night wore on, you surrendered to the connection that bound you both. You felt cherished, adored, and completely enveloped in his love.

Finally, as dawn broke, painting the room in soft hues of pink and gold, you lay in Bruce's arms, exhaustion mingling with satisfaction. The adventures of Gotham, the shadows that stalked the streets, seemed distant and irrelevant. In this moment, you were safe, loved, and utterly fulfilled.

Bruce stirred beside you, his brow furrowing as he awoke to the new day. When his gaze landed on you, the corners of his lips lifted in a sleepy smile, a heartfelt expression that made your heart swell.

“Good morning, Mrs. Wayne,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Good morning, Mr. Wayne,” you replied, grinning. In that moment, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together—partners in every sense of the word.

And as you nestled deeper into his embrace, the city outside continued its ceaseless pulse, but inside these walls, you had found your solace, your joy, and your forever.

Masterlist

[rafeshit]

celebrity!drew x assistant!reader

warnings — none other than tensionn and kissin

summary — you surprise him at one his premieres that he begged you to come to

youve been Drew's assistant for months, tasked with managing his chaotic schedule and taming the problems in his daily life. It's a wonder you haven't lost your mind yet, given the constant demands and last-minute changes that come with catering to a celebrity. But somehow, you've learned to navigate Drew's world with ease, all while maintaining a sense of calm that eludes him. It's almost comical, really, you're the epitome of organization and precision, whereas Drew is a walking disaster, always running late and anxiety driven about the next big thing.

despite your different approaches to life, you've developed an unlikely friendship with Drew over the past few months. You've grown accustomed to his anxious energy, and he's learned to appreciate your no-nonsense attitude. As the days have turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, you've begun to realize that your feelings for Drew go beyond friendship. You've tried to brush it off as a silly crush, but the truth is, you're hooked. You can't help but admire the way his eyes wrinkle at the corners when he smiles or how he stutters when he speaks to you. The problem, of course, is that Drew is a notorious playboy, always on the prowl for the next girl to pounce on. You're not naive enough to think you stand a chance.

today is the day of the premier for Onslaught, Drew's latest movie. He's been a nervous wreck all morning, pacing back and forth in front of the mirror as he preps for the red carpet. When he turns to you and says, "I don't understand why you're not coming with me," you know you have to draw a line. You can't keep enabling his dependency on you, no matter how much you care for him. So you say the one word that will likely send him into a wreck "No!" Drew's scoffs, and he storms out of the room without a word.

you have to admit that your relationship is a little inappropriate. drew latches onto you like a child does to a mother and he uses you as an anchor in everything he does because you do things so well. So you have to draw the line somewhere.

fast-forward to the premier, where Drew is currently sweating bullets during an interview. His anxiety is at an all time high, his eyes darting towards the crowd as he forces a smile onto his face. And then, suddenly, a hair on the back of his neck stands on end. He looks up, his gaze locking onto yours as you stand at the edge of the crowd, smiling brightly back at him. The camera flashes, capturing the moment, and for an instant, everyone’s eyes were on you. But It's just you and Drew, locked in this moment feeling as though you were the only two in the room.

As the interviews wrap up, you make your way over to Drew, he turns to you, asking, "You showed up. Why'd you show up?"

You take a deep breath, preparing for the aftermath of your earlier argument. "I'm really sorry, I just—" But Drew cuts you off, "Why?" He says practically demanding an answer.

"You know why," you say, winking at him.

He chuckles, shaking his head, and you both enter into the building engulfed in a room full of his colleagues. He hands you a glass of sparkling champagne. "Well, I suppose you're here now. Let's make the most of it."

As you sip your drink, taking in the atmosphere, Drew fills you in on the reactions to his movie surrounding Onslaught. His hand finds its way to your back, moving up and down in a gentle, possessive gesture that raises more than a few eyebrows among his co-stars.

Just then, a handsome stranger approaches you,"You look stunning in that black dress, miss." he says, his smile wide and his eyes inviting. "May I have the pleasure of your name?"

You feel Drew's hand squeeze your back ever so slightly before it slips off, only to graze your butt in a gentle way. The stranger's eyes flicker to Drew, who was disinterested in the stranger advances from the start, "Sorry, she's unavailable," Drew says, ushering him away.

You turn to him, with a confused on your face. "Unavailable?" you repeat.

Drew offers a downward smile and shrugs. "Yeah. And you're fired."

You're taken aback, "What? Why?" This job has been your lively hood and the biggest break you could ever imagine, it would be catastrophic for you to lose it. You start to wonder where you messed up and if it was even fixable, because his words were certain and clear.

He smirks. "Because I can't date my assistant without it being a problem." Your eyebrows shoot up, and before you can process his words, Drew leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss. His hands pull your waist closer to him, deepening the embrace. You both earn side eyes from everyone in the room but you two were far from caring.

Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him in closer and finally He breaks the kiss, still holding your waist as he whispers in your ear, “this dress is coming off tonight.”

[divinelyparkjimin]

— taste of you [m] | pjm.

◦ summary ↠ getting yourself off to your childhood friend’s sexual escapades was definitely not on your radar, but seems like it should’ve been a long time ago.

◦ pairing ↠ jimin x reader

◦ word count ↠ 5.2k

◦ genre ↠ smut, fluff, angst-ish

◦ content warning(s) ↠ fuckboy!jimin, childhood friends to lovers, roommate au, suggestive/explicit content, dirty talk, thigh riding, penetrative sex, ejaculation, f. and m. orgasm, oral sex, fingering, vouyerism (?), masturbation, alcohol consumption

a/n: i put together another one for you guys! hope you enjoy <3

masterlist

Sitting on the couch in the living room, you held a book in your lap, though you hadn't turned a page in the past twenty minutes. The soft glow of the late morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm light on the cozy apartment. The space was a blend of both you and your roommate, Jimin’s, personalities: your collection of plants thriving in the corners, and Jimin's eclectic mix of posters and musical instruments scattered about. A framed photo of the two of you at your high school graduation hung on the wall, a reminder of the years you had shared.

Your eyes kept drifting to the hallway, waiting for the inevitable sound of Jimin's bedroom door opening. The apartment was unusually quiet this morning, the calm before the storm. Sure enough, the door creaked open, and you heard the soft, murmured goodbyes. A minute later, a petite, pretty brunette emerged, looking slightly disheveled but clearly satisfied. She glanced at you with a polite nod, her high heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor as she made her way to the front door. The scent of her perfume lingered in the air, mixing with the aroma of fresh coffee.

Jimin followed shortly after, wearing his usual post-hookup grin. His dark hair was tousled, and his t-shirt was slightly wrinkled. There was a certain smugness in his stride that was both infuriating and oddly endearing. He stopped in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Another one, huh?" you quipped, raising an eyebrow as you set your book aside. "Didn't you have a girl over just last night? What’s going on, Jimin? Suddenly in heat after being a big ‘ol virgin in high school?"

Jimin chuckled, running a hand through his messy hair. "Guess I'm making up for lost time," he said, flashing you a playful wink.

You shook your head, unable to keep the smirk off your face. "Never thought I'd see the day. The shy boy next door turned playboy extraordinaire. What happened to you?"

He shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "People change, you know."

As he sauntered into the kitchen, you followed, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. The kitchen was bright and airy, with sunlight streaming through the large windows. The small dining table where the two of you often shared meals was cluttered with the remnants of breakfast: an empty cereal bowl, a half-finished cup of coffee, and a plate with crumbs. Jimin moved to the coffee maker, his back muscles rippling under his shirt as he poured himself a cup.

"You sure you're okay with this?" he asked, turning to face you, his expression suddenly serious. "I mean, if it's bothering you, I can tone it down."

You forced a laugh, waving off his concern. "It's fine, Jimin. We're adults. You can do what you want."

But the truth was, it wasn’t fine. The more you tried to brush it off, the harder it became to ignore the growing tension inside you. Each night, as the sounds from his room filled the apartment, you found it increasingly difficult to sleep. The moans, the bed creaking, the unmistakable intimacy—it all sent a shiver down your spine, making your cheeks flush and your heart race. You’d lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to push the images forming in your mind aside. But the curiosity and arousal were impossible to ignore. You started seeing Jimin in a way you never had before, wondering what it would be like to be one of those girls.

Mornings became a minefield of awkward encounters. You’d bump into his overnight guests in the kitchen, exchanging polite smiles and trying to mask your discomfort. Jimin, for his part, seemed oblivious to your internal struggle. He would flash you his usual bright smile, completely unaware of the turmoil he was causing within you.

One morning, as you poured yourself a cup of coffee, you couldn’t help but steal glances at the girl Jimin had brought home the night before. She was stunning, with perfect hair and a confident air that made you feel oddly inadequate. You wondered what Jimin saw in her, and whether he had ever looked at you the same way. The thought sent a pang of jealousy through you, but you quickly shoved it aside, forcing yourself to act normal.

This newfound awareness of Jimin’s sexual escapades was driving you crazy. You found yourself unable to concentrate on anything, your mind constantly drifting back to the sounds and sights that had become a part of your nightly routine. The more you tried to ignore it, the stronger the feelings grew.

As the days passed, your curiosity began to flourish further and further towards lust, which it was already quite a lot of. You started paying more attention to Jimin, noticing the way his muscles flexed when he moved, the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed, the way his voice deepened when he spoke to his conquests. You were seeing him in a completely new light, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

That evening, after a particularly loud night of giggles and thumping from Jimin's room, you found yourself in the kitchen, brewing a pot of chamomile tea in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves. The door to Jimin’s room opened, and you heard soft footsteps approaching. You stiffened, your heart rate picking up as Jimin entered the kitchen, shirtless and looking annoyingly perfect despite the late hour.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, leaning casually against the counter.

“Yeah, something like that,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

He grinned, clearly oblivious to the turmoil he was causing. “Didn’t mean to keep you up,” he said, his tone teasing. “Or maybe I did,” he added with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, though a small part of you couldn't help but appreciate the sight of him. “You’re impossible, Jimin.”

He stepped closer, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something uniquely him. “You know, if you ever need a distraction…” he started, his voice dropping to a low, seductive tone.

Your breath hitched. “Don’t joke about that,” you said, more harshly than you intended.

He looked taken aback, his playful expression fading. “Hey, I was just kidding. Are you okay?”

You sighed, turning away to pour your tea. “I’m fine, Jimin. Just tired.”

But you weren’t fine. You were far from fine, a potent mix of jealousy and desire taking root within you. It was like your body had a mind of its own, going into heat anytime you’d cross paths with him.

It felt strange to you, considering this was the boy you’d grown up with for such a huge portion of your life. You’d been by his side when he was an ultra nerd, when he wouldn’t dare make a move on a single girl. You’d never imagined you could ever see him as more than that, but here you were.

“Jimin, can I ask you something?” You felt your heart skip a beat.

“Anything,” he replied, his expression soft.

“Why do you do it?” you asked, surprising even yourself with the question. “All the girls, I mean.”

He seemed to ponder this for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just…easy, I guess. No strings, no complications.”

You looked at him, trying to keep your voice steady. “But isn’t it lonely? Doesn’t it make you feel empty?”

Jimin shrugged, a nonchalant smile on his face. “Not really. I’m just having fun, you know?”

Your chest tightened, but you kept your tone light. “You’re not as invincible as you think you are, you know. One day, you’re going to meet someone who makes you want to risk everything.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Maybe, but I’m not worried about that right now. I’m just taking things as they come.”

You nodded, though your mind was far from at ease. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Jimin.”

He gave you a casual smile. “Thanks. And hey, don’t worry about me. I’m doing just fine.”

You forced a smile in return. “Yeah, I know. Just take care of yourself.”

And with that, you returned to your room, plunging onto the soft cotton sheets that covered your bed. The memory of his teasing words lingered in your mind. “You know, if you ever need a distraction…” His voice had dropped to a low, seductive tone, and though you’d laughed it off at the time, the suggestion had planted a seed in your mind.

Alone in the dim light of your room, your thoughts wandered back to Jimin. You couldn’t deny the magnetic pull you felt towards him, the way your body reacted to his touch, his voice, his presence. You found yourself imagining what it would be like to take him up on his offer, to let him distract you in the most intimate way.

Your hand drifted down your body, your breath hitching as you let your fantasies take over. You imagined the feel of his strong, thick thighs under you, the way they would flex and shift as you rode them. The thought made your pulse quicken, and you let out a soft sigh, your fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin.

In your mind, you could see Jimin’s intense gaze, feel his hands on your hips, guiding you. The way his muscles would ripple under your touch, the low growl of his voice as he whispered your name. You imagined the way his thighs would feel beneath you, strong and steady, the friction igniting every nerve in your body.

Your breathing grew heavier, your movements more urgent as you lost yourself in the fantasy. The thought of being with Jimin, of feeling him in such an intimate way, sent waves of pleasure through you. You could almost hear his voice, feel his breath against your skin, the heat of his body enveloping you.

It wasn’t long before your fantasies reached their peak, your body trembling with release. You lay there for a moment, catching your breath, your mind still filled with images of Jimin. The intensity of your desire surprised you, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to turn your fantasies into reality.

The next weekend, Jimin knocked on your bedroom door, poking his head in with a grin. “Hey, you got any plans tonight?”

You looked up from your book, raising an eyebrow. “Not really. Why?”

“I’m heading to the club with some friends,” he said, stepping inside. “You should come with us.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You know I’m not into that scene, Jimin. I’m fine here.”

He walked over to your bed, sitting on the edge. “Come on, you’re always sitting at home. One night out won’t kill you. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

You sighed, setting your book aside. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t know what to do there.”

Jimin smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just let loose for once. Dance, have a few drinks, and enjoy yourself. I’ll be there with you the whole time.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “I’m really not sure. It’s not my thing.”

“Please,” he said, giving you his best puppy-dog eyes. “Do it for me? I hate seeing you cooped up all the time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his expression. “Alright, alright. I’ll go. But if it gets too much, I’m leaving.”

“Deal,” Jimin said, standing up and pulling you to your feet. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I better not.”

As you got ready, you felt a mix of excitement and nerves. Jimin was right—you rarely went out, and maybe it was time to change that. You put on a nice outfit, something that made you feel confident, and met Jimin in the living room.

“Ready?” he asked, smiling warmly at you.

“Ready,” you replied, feeling a flutter of anticipation in your stomach.

With Jimin by your side, you set out for the club, wondering what the night had in store.

The music was loud, the lights were dazzling, and the drinks were flowing. After a few shots, you felt more relaxed, the alcohol dulling your inhibitions. Jimin stayed close to you all night, dancing and laughing in a way that made you feel like you were the only two people in the room.

The club was packed, a sea of bodies moving to the throbbing bass that reverberated through the air. Flashing lights painted the room in hues of blue and red, creating an almost hypnotic atmosphere. You and Jimin had already downed a few shots, the alcohol buzzing warmly through your veins, making everything feel a little more vibrant and a lot less restrained.

You found yourselves on the dance floor, pressed close together by the throng of people. The music pounded around you, a sultry beat that seemed to dictate the movements of your bodies. Jimin's hands found your hips, pulling you against him, and you didn't resist. You’d never felt his touch in a way so intimate before. The feel of his body so close to yours was electrifying, and you let the music take over, swaying in perfect rhythm with him.

Jimin’s breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in to speak, his voice barely audible over the music. “You’re a really good dancer,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin.

You shivered, pressing closer to him. “So are you,” you replied, feeling bolder than usual. The alcohol had stripped away your inhibitions, leaving you more daring and less concerned about the consequences.

As the song changed to something even more sensual, Jimin's hands roamed a bit more, sliding up and down your sides, occasionally grazing the small of your back. Each touch sent a jolt through you, making your heart race. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, your bodies moving as one.

Your faces were inches apart now, and you could see the intensity in Jimin's eyes. There was something different about the way he looked at you tonight—something that made your pulse quicken and your breath hitch. His eyes flickered to your lips, and for a moment, you thought he might kiss you right there on the dance floor.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered, his voice husky and filled with something you couldn’t quite identify—desire, perhaps, or something even deeper.

“Good,” you whispered back, the word escaping before you could think better of it.

The tension between you was palpable, a current that made every touch, every brush of skin against skin, feel like a spark. You weren’t sure how much longer you could stand it. The alcohol had dulled your fears but sharpened your desires, and all you wanted was to close the small gap between you and feel his lips on yours.

Jimin seemed to feel the same way. His grip on your waist tightened, and he leaned in even closer, his lips almost touching your ear. “You wanna head back?” he suggested, his voice barely more than a breath. “It’s feeling a little stuffy in here.” You nodded, simply wanting to be alone with him. You quickly bid your friends goodbye, before taking off.

Jimin took your hand in his, leading you through the crowd and out of the club, the cool night air hitting you like a shock after the heat of the dance floor. The tension between you was still there, simmering just below the surface.

The ride home in the Uber had been a blur, the tension between you growing with each passing second. You both sat close, his leg pressed against yours, the occasional brush of his hand against your thigh sending sparks through your body. You exchanged lingering glances, the desire in his eyes reflecting your own.

Back at the apartment, the door had barely closed behind you before Jimin was on you again, his hands on your waist as he backed you against the wall. The electricity between you crackled in the air, making every nerve in your body stand on end.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice low and intense as he looked into your eyes.

You shivered, pressing closer to him. “I think I’m starting to get an idea,” you replied, breathless.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and hungry, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. You kissed him back with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

The kiss deepened, growing more intense as the pent-up tension between you finally found release. His hands roamed your body, sending shivers down your spine with every touch. You could feel the heat radiating off him, matching the fire that burned inside you.

Just as things were escalating, Jimin suddenly pulled back, breathing heavily. “I can’t do this,” he said, his voice strained.

You blinked, trying to process his words. “What’s wrong?” you asked, your heart sinking.

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I can do this with you.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, your heart sinking at his words as your throat grew tight. “You do this all the time. Why is it any different with me?”

Jimin sighed, looking tormented. “Because it’s not the same. It’s... it’s different.”

You felt a mix of anger and sadness rising. “Different how? Were you not liking it?”

“No, it’s not that,” he said quickly, reaching for your hand. “I just… really care about you. And I don’t want to just have a quick, meaningless hookup with you.”

His confession left you stunned. “What do you mean?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I thought sleeping around would make it easier to stop thinking about you, but it’s never felt right.” Jimin took a deep breath, his voice tinged with regret. “I can’t treat it like you’re just another girl because you’re not. I’ve always wanted it to be you, but I knew I didn’t really stand a chance.”

You felt a lump in your throat, tears welling in your eyes. “So you’ve been avoiding me because you care about me?”

He nodded, looking both vulnerable and relieved. “Yes. I know it sounds messed up, but I didn’t know how else to deal with it. I didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

You took a step closer, your heart pounding. “Jimin, I want you too. I know I said it didn’t bother me, but it’s honestly been driving me insane. I couldn’t help but feel jealous whenever you’d bring all the girls in, you know?”

His eyes widened with surprise and relief. “You did?”

You nodded, feeling a mixture of hope and longing. “Yes. I wanted you, Jimin. I still do.”

The air between you crackled with unspoken desire as you closed the gap between you, your lips meeting in a kiss that was filled with all the emotions you had kept bottled up. This time, it wasn’t just about lust—it was about love and longing, and the connection you both craved.

As the kiss deepened, you felt Jimin’s hands on your back, pulling you closer. This time, there was no hesitation, no holding back. You both knew what you wanted. Jimin slipped his firm hands beneath your thighs, lifting you up in a swift movement, keeping his lips connected to yours. You locked your legs around his torso, arms placed around his neck.

His lips felt perfect against your own, the pillowy feeling of them pulling you deeper into the moment. You gasped for air every now and then, but were not given much of a break before the two of you were at it again, more passionate than before. Your fingers traced along the back of his neck as you were buried in each other’s faces, occasionally gripping at his hair.

“F-Fuck Y/N, I’ve wanted this so bad,” Jimin croaked, heavy breaths escaping his lips.

“Trust me, I have too.” You chuckled, pecking his nose before going back into his lips. You found yourself sucking on his bottom lip and had each other’s tongues periodically crossing the barriers between the two of you.

Jimin placed his hands at your ass, as if for a better grip on you, before carrying you over to his bedroom. The journey there was a shaky one, as neither of you could seem to separate from basking in the feelings of one another. Upon arrival, he set you on his bed, before pulling off his shirt and crawling atop you.

Your eyes followed him with delight, staring up at him with doe eyes that he couldn’t help but grin at.

“God, you’re so cute.” Jimin’s hand rose up to touch your face, his large thumb swiping along your cheek. He pecked the same spot, sending shivers down your spine. He then leaned back, his eyes taking in your form with a mix of admiration and desire.

Slowly, you tugged at the hem of your own shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Jimin's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, and his hands quickly followed, exploring the newly exposed skin. His touch was both gentle and possessive, making your body arch into him with every caress.

Jimin's lips traveled down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses that made you shiver. He nipped at your collarbone, eliciting a gasp from you as his hands roamed over your curves. You felt his fingers fumble with the clasp of your bra, and within moments, it was discarded, leaving you bare to his hungry gaze.

“Beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his lips finding their way to your breasts. He took his time, savoring each kiss and lick, driving you wild with need. Your hands roamed over his toned back, feeling his muscles flex beneath your touch as he continued his ministrations.

You couldn’t wait any longer. Your hands traveled down his torso, fingers tracing the lines of his abs before reaching the waistband of his jeans. You fumbled with the button, your eagerness evident as you finally managed to undo it. Jimin chuckled softly, a sound filled with both amusement and anticipation.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he teased, but his voice was thick with desire. He helped you with the rest, quickly shedding his jeans and boxers. The sight of him, fully naked and aroused, sent a jolt of anticipation through you.

He leaned back down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as his hands made quick work of removing the last of your clothing. Now, with nothing between you, the heat of his body against yours was almost overwhelming. You could feel the evidence of his desire pressing against you, making your own arousal spike.

Jimin’s hand slid between your thighs, his fingers teasing your entrance before slipping inside.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered. “I guess you really haven’t gotten any in a while.” A sly smirk appeared on his face as your face turned into a face of shock.

“Hey—!” you began, before you were cut off by his hand covering your mouth.

“Shh,” Jimin whispered, his eyes darkening with desire. “Let me take care of you.”

You moaned into his mouth as he pressed further against your g-spots. Your hips bucked against his hand as he worked you with skilled, deliberate movements. Every touch, every stroke, brought you closer to the edge. His fingers thrusted inside you, curling to hit that perfect spot that made your vision blur even harder.

Your moans grew louder, the sound filling the room as your body tensed, every muscle tightening in anticipation. Jimin’s other hand slid up your body, cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his fingers, adding another layer of sensation to the mix.

“Jimin, I’m so close,” you panted, your hips moving in time with his thrusts, chasing the climax that was just out of reach. He bit down gently on your earlobe, his breath hot and ragged in your ear.

“Come for me, baby. I want to feel you,” he growled.

The combination of his words, his touch, and the raw intensity in his eyes left you pooled with desperation. Your orgasm hit you with a force that left you breathless, your body convulsing around his fingers as waves of pleasure crashed over you. You cried out his name, your nails digging into his back as you rode out the climax.

Jimin didn’t stop, continuing to pump his fingers inside you, prolonging your pleasure until you were a quivering mess beneath him. When he finally pulled his hand away, he brought his fingers to his lips, licking them clean with a satisfied smirk.

“God, you taste amazing,” he said, his eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you. You were still catching your breath, your body humming with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Jimin,” you breathed, reaching up to pull him down into a kiss. Your tongues tangled together, the taste of yourself on his lips adding to the intimate connection between you.

He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “Ready for more?” he asked, his voice a low, seductive murmur.

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. “Always,” you whispered, your body already aching for his touch again.

It was not long before his lips were back in contact with your skin, trailing kisses down your body which left a scorching path from your neck to your navel. Every touch sent shivers through you, your skin tingling with anticipation. When he reached your thighs, he gently spread them apart, positioning himself between them.

“Jimin…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. The sight of him, his eyes locked onto yours with such intensity, made your heart race.

“I’ve always wondered what you’d taste like,” he murmured, his tone laced with eagerness. He leaned in closer, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sensation made you gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily.

“God, you’re perfect,” he groaned, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place as he continued his exploration. His tongue moved with expert precision, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through you. He sucked gently on your clit, making your head spin and your breath come in ragged gasps.

“Jimin, please,” you begged, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to pull him closer. The need for release was overwhelming, every nerve in your body on fire.

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with lust and satisfaction. “Not yet, baby. I want to make you feel everything.”

As the intensity between you reached its peak, you felt a surge of boldness wash over you. Breaking away from the kiss, you looked up at Jimin with flushed cheeks and a determined gleam in your eyes.

"Jimin," you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper, "I want to ride your thigh."

His eyes widened in surprise, but a smirk quickly spread across his lips. "Hell yeah," he replied, his voice husky with seduction. “I didn’t know you were into that.”

You straddled his thigh, feeling the heat of his skin against yours as you positioned yourself just right. With a shaky breath, you began to move, your hips rolling against him in slow motions.

The friction was exquisite, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body with each movement. Jimin's hands roamed your curves, guiding you as you found a rhythm that drove you both wild.

You threw your head back, letting out a low moan as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level. Jimin's thigh provided the perfect amount of pressure, hitting all the right spots and pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Despite the immense feelings of pleasure, it didn’t seem to be enough, so you wanted more.

“I need you, Jimin,” you breathed, barely able to form the words as pleasure clouded your mind.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. Aligning himself with you, he slowly pushed his length inside you, filling you completely. The sensation was both intense and intimate, making you gasp as your bodies finally joined.

Jimin set a slow, steady pace, his movements deep. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, building steadily until you felt like you might burst. His lips never strayed far from yours, kissing you with a passion that matched the intensity of his movements. The familiar sound of his headboard banging against the wall filled the room as his thrusts grew rougher. It was a noise you were used to hearing from the other side of the wall, but were now able to experience for yourself.

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you rode the waves of pleasure. The rhythm between you was perfect, a dance of desire and emotion that brought you closer with every thrust.

“Jimin, I’m gonna—” you cried out, unable to hold back any longer.

“Do it, Y/N. Come,” he urged, his voice a low growl.

The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with an intensity that left you trembling. Your vision blurred, your mind going blank as pleasure consumed you. Jimin continued to lap at you yet again, drawing out your climax until you were completely spent. Jimin held you close, his own release mingling with yours, the connection between you deeper than it had ever been.

Finally, he pulled away, crawling back up your body to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss. As the waves of pleasure subsided, you lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, your bodies still entwined. Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin.

“That was amazing, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with contentment. In that moment, everything felt perfect, the years of friendship and unspoken desire finally culminating in something beautiful.

Jimin chuckled softly, breaking the silence. “So, does this mean we can make this a regular thing?”

You laughed, playfully swatting his chest. “Are you saying you can’t get enough of me already?”

“Pretty much,” he grinned. “I don’t I could ever get enough of this.” His eyes sparkled with mischief as they drifted down the length of your body.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Neither do I, Jimin.”

With that, you both settled into a comfortable silence, cuddled close, bare skin against bare skin. As the night grew quieter, the rhythm of your breathing began to sync, and you found yourselves drifting off to sleep in each other’s arms.

a/n: feel free to leave a comment or slip into my inbox to let me know what you think! feedback is always appreciated :>

masterlist

[blckbrrybasket]

7. “Closer”

Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader

꒰Mutual Masturbation + Forbidden꒱ - 1.7k

• reader is steve’s sister, a little bit of plot, playboy magazine appearance

kinktober m.list

Steve had a habit of coming home late if he wasn’t working the same shift as Robin. If Robin wasn’t there to keep him in line he would almost alway snake last minute plans with someone. This time Robin just happened to be over at the Harrington house to wait for him. Like clockwork the phone rang and you didn’t have to pick it up to know it was Steve.

“Hey,” you remarked, staring at the wall boredly. “Hey uh I’m gonna be a little late. Lisa stopped by when I was closing up soo..” “So you’re going to go home with her?” His audacity didn’t surprise you anymore. It was well placed, truly trying to find the love of his life, though, it didn’t help that you wanted him to just give it up sometimes. 

You were tired of losing time with your brother. Footsteps caught your attention, Robin curiously standing behind you. You lowered the phone, holding it to your chest. “Steve’s going to take his time.” You rolled your eyes at your thinly veiled innuendo. Robin nodded and leaned against the wall to listen in on you and Steve.

“Take your time.” You responded into the receiver, looking at your nails. Steve certainly would, always taking what you said seriously. After humming noncommittally you hung up and turned to Robin. “It’s just us for a bit. Want to go to my room?”

You leaned back on your headboard, legs stretched out on the bed, flipping through a magazine. Robin lay sideways, head resting by your legs with her feet on the wall. “So, these tests are real?” Your eyes peered over her shoulder at the magazine that Robin was looking at.

It was some personality test in one of those teen magazines. “I wouldn’t bet on it,” you answered. Closing the magazine you held, you tossed it to the side to find another in your pile. Most of the magazines were new releases from Cosmo, Seventeen, what have you. You honestly had just dumped out your small box of magazines onto the bed.

It gave you two something to do. While on the hunt for an interesting magazine Robin joined you, flipping through them. “I don’t get why they would add tests that don’t work.” You shrugged, “They make those all the time, same with the boyfriend tests.”

Robin wrinkled her nose. “Boyfriend tests?” “Yeah, like which guy would you be best suited for based on your answers. It’s a load of bullshit, but fun to do.” Robin thought about it for a moment, settling to shrug before pulling a different looking magazine from the pile. A playboy.

She laughed, holding it up. “Did Steve’s magazine get in here?” You glanced up, cheeks flushing. “No! I look at that for like what bras I want to get and stuff…” You trailed off, reaching to grab it from her. Instead, Robin laughed and rolled away, opening it up.

“Woah,” she muttered, looking at the dog-eared page she had opened. Behind her, you groaned and clambered on top of her, magazines flying off the bed at your clumsy movements. “See? Her lingerie is cute.” You pointed at one of the girls who was almost fully bent over. Robin swallowed.

“You’d wear that?” You sighed and draped yourself over her, “Yeah. Don’t know where to buy it though.” Laying on her back, you looked over her shoulder to watch her flip through the articles to find more pictures. A familiar heartbeat of arousal began pulsing in your pussy at the all too familiar pictures. You mentally thanked the universe that she couldn’t feel it from your position of laying over her back.

You, however, could feel how she squirmed. Robin had always been attractive to you but severely off limits because of Steve. What he didn’t know didn’t hurt him though, right? You leaned down, whispering. “Are you seriously getting turned on by some half covered tits?” Robin spluttered, turning her head.

“No!” She defended herself immediately much to your amusement. “Seeing full tits is where it’s at.” You sat back as realization dawned on Robin’s features, her body turning over to look at her. “I’ve seen boobs before,” she weakly retorted.

“Sure I have too.” You paused for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. “I can show you mine. Tits are better in person.” Her eyes immediately dropped to your chest, gulping. “What about Steve?”

“What about Steve? He isn’t here, besides if we don’t touch each other it doesn’t count.” The logic wasn’t full proof but it was enough for her. “Okay, yeah.” The moment the words left her mouth you were shucking your sweater off onto the ground. Your arm swiped the rest of the magazines off to give both of you room.

Your back was once again against the headboards, Robin’s now resting on the wall. Reaching up, you unclasped your bra with practiced swiftness, the fabric loosening on your chest. Letting the straps of it slide down, you watched it fall away into your lap. Robin’s lips parted, already damp panties becoming uncomfortably wet. With a single look you could tell, throwing your bra to the side.

“You can touch yourself,” you assured her. She nodded, entranced, and unzipped her pants to throw them across the room. You laughed at her enthusiasm, swiftly pulling off your own pants to pile on the ground. Her underwear were a plain light blue and she wished she wore something a bit more flashy like you had. Did you always dress that nicely?

Sliding your panties down, you set them next to you, spreading your legs for her to see. Her eyes roamed over your folds, slowly dragging her own underwear off. Freckles created a small trail down to her mound, hair dusting over it. You bit your lip, forgetting all about the magazine.

“She’s pretty,” you personalized her cunt. “Really..?” Robin questioned, hand mirroring your movements to your cunt. “Oh yeah.” Dragging your fingertips up and down, they spread apart to expose your clenching hole. Your eyes trained on where Robin was circling her clit.

One finger from your other hand edged around your entrance making it visibly flutter again. You chuckled when Robin’s eyes grew wide, a whine coming from her. “How many fingers?” You asked and her eyes snapped back up to you. “Huh?”

“How many fingers should we use?” She drew in a sharp breath. How many fingers did she usually start with? “Two.” You nodded and rolled your shoulders back, sliding two fingers in. The stretch burns a little and you pause halfway through.

Robin watched in rapt attention, two fingers edging inside of her at the same time. Her fingertips stroked the inside of her walls, coaxing them to loosen. Contrasting her approach, you twisted your fingers, knuckles sliding in as you moaned. The pain mixed with the pleasure, cunt easing up around you when you began curling them.

You sighed, legs relaxing at the feeling. Robin moaned as she watched you finger yourself, thumb pressing on her clit. She rubbed at it tenderly, walls fluttering to open up for her. She wanted to speed up the process, to be able to jump right in, but with you hungrily watching her like that she didn’t mind taking her time as much.

“Working yourself up, babe?” Her gut clenched at the pet name at the same time her cunt did. When she unclenched, her fingers slid in the last centimeter, back arching as she looked at you. Nodding, Robin drew her fingers halfway out before pushing them back in with a squelch. “Goddamn you’re wet.”

Robin blushed, looking down at where she was leaking on your bed, preparing to apologize when you continued. “I want to taste you so bad.” Your fingers crooked a bit, finding your g-spot. You moaned, eyes falling shut as you repeatedly hit the spot.

“Shit.” She squeaked, fingers thrusting in and out at a steady pace. “You’re so hot, so so pretty. Not that you usually aren’t because you always are. If you weren’t Steve’s sister, ooh shit.” You smirked, head dropping back to the wooden headboard as you reached down to play with your clit. 

“Trust me, if you weren’t his best friend I would have fucked you by now.” Robin moaned, excessive heat flooding her cunt. “You can if you want to.” “Oh I will,” you chuckled. “Just want you to cum like this for now.”

Your eyes cracked open to look at her desperately grinding into her moving hand, palm hitting her bundle of nerves. “Pretty girl,” you groaned, licking your lips. Robin keened, hips lifting as she repeatedly hit her clit with the palm of her hand, fingers curling inside her pulsing walls.

Fingertips dragged over your sweet spot again, cunt clenching. Losing all sense of patience from watching her you rubbed your clit desperately, nearing the precipice. You teetered on the edge of coming, watching her. Once Robin’s back arched with a moan you flicked your fingers up again, letting yourself go.

The pair of you came at the same time, Robin’s cum sliding down her fingers to pool in her palm. You panted, drawing your cum covered fingers from your pussy. Leaning down, You lapped up Robin’s cum from her hand, looking up at her. Her eyes widened, hips bucking forward while her fingers were still inside her. 

You smirked, pressing forward to look at her cunt. “You smell so fucking good.” Robin sighed shakily. Your eyes fell, blowing cool air on her slit to watch her clit twitch. You sat back up, triumphantly licking your fingers clean when you heard the downstairs door open. “Robin?” Steve called out.

Robin immediately pulled her hand from between her legs, jumping off the bed. She threw pants on and wiped her fingers off of her thigh. She threw a look over her shoulder as she opened your door to catch you winking, not making a move to get dressed. Robin would rather stay here, but she couldn’t get caught.

She bit her lip, ducking out the door and shut it. “Steve?” She called back, voice unnaturally high. You guessed by the scarce sound she had meandered down the steps. You waited, until you heard. “Why are you wearing my sister's pants?”

tags: @babybatlover, @starrgurl46, @wowzers-07, @nenukkjhj, @morgan0lw21, @kinokomoonshine, @slut4ddn, @marirxse, @chx-rrryc0la, @adventures-of-impala, @shesadilema13

[jailbird-junkrat-writes]

Overwatch Handholding Headcanons Part 3

Part 3 of 4

Ashe You have to be the one to take her hand first. She might jerk her hand away, confused about what you want but then she softens, letting you take her hand. She watches the simple action with brows furrowed until she feels how nice your hand in hers is. How it feels right and she holds on tight. As if scared you might vanish if she lets go.

Baptiste  He enjoys holding hands. It’s simple but says more than words. He smiles and always offers his hand to you to take. He waits until you slip your hand into his before he closes his. His hands are rough and strong. Comforting and warm. He’s always last to let go, letting fingers gently slip from his touch, fingers linked for a second before you part.

Genji The ex-playboy never did handholding before, far too intimate of a gesture for those he was just seeing for a good time and now, with the way he is, the new him both body and soul. He’s self-conscious and hesitant both in his strength and in how cold his hand would feel to the touch. You need to be the one to take his hand in yours, let him know you want this, that the cold metal of his fingers mingled with your warm ones is perfect.

Junkrat He has no concept of how to act in a relationship, to show his love or his affection and when you go to hold his hand he jerks away and wrinkles his nose at you, holding his hand against his chest thinking you were trying to take something from him. You have to explain why you want to hold his hand and he seems dubious of your intentions, thinks you are going to trick him until you grab his hand and hold it, letting him know there is no trick. He decides he rather likes how your hand feels in his.

Sigma He loves the simple intimacy and connection of holding someone he cares about's hand. Be it romanic or platonic. He will happily chatter with you or at you as he takes both of your hands in his. Cupping his large hands over yours with a big smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkle with fondness as he holds your hand close to his chest. Wanting that simple human connection. It’s near impossible to hold his hand when he’s floating, maybe he gets one of those ‘can’t reach tall places’ grabbers for you to still hold his hand.

[oh-meretseger]

part 1 - Jean’s Favorite Color

attack on titan modern college au // Jean Kirstein x fem!reader, not a smut (yet), but a tiny bit suggestive, some hateful tension, slight insults

summary: you hate this guy with all your heart (😏) and he seems to be enjoying that. we’ll see how that goes for you, when you two have to work together xoxo

word count: 2,8k

Jean has always been amused by your desperate act that you tried keeping up about absolutely hating him. You seemed no more than a rigid and mousy little nerd, when Sasha introduced you to him and Connie as her "new best friend", about six minutes after first meeting you.

"She seems cool" Connie seemed to like you, shrugging his shoulders when Jean asked him if he found you stuck up. "Man, not everyone's stuck up who's not laughing at your sarcastic ass jokes"

Even though you two were polar opposites, you seemed to look at Sasha with the widest smile, eyes glistening with love when she was loudly blabbering about, while you were quietly listening and chuckling to yourself - about stuff that Sasha called you two's "inside jokes", although to Jean, it seemed like she was the only one doing the talking, at all times.

He didn't mind you spending time with their trio at first. As a quiet girl hiding under your glasses, baggy jeans and big hoodies, you weren't exactly the type to catch his eye. The thought of you being a stuck up little nerd first occured to him when you all were sitting in an evening class and the professor, looking through the presentation, dared to ask if anyone knew where the substitute left off the previous night.

"Your mom should be the one knowing that" Jean mumbled, and raised his eyes as Connie spat a good amount of his energy drink on the desk in front of him, laughter exploding right out of his mouth. A light smile quickly vanished from Jean's face as your expression caught his eye, sitting on the other side of Connie. You frowned at your notes, rolling your eyes. "What an idiot" you thought to yourself, not even acknowledging the fact that you would absolutely be the one making "your mom" jokes in any other setting. Any other setting where The Playboy himself wasn't present... With that damn smug look on his face.

Something just irked you about Jean, although you couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. It was a feeling that you haven’t tried to learn the source of so far. It just appeared on its own, as soon as you looked up at him for the first time, and laid eyes on his face under a few light brown strands of hair softly falling from the perfectly combed back style. The stubble on that sharp jawline, those soft looking lips curling up in a half-smile, the perfectly straight line of that nose, those warm, brown eyes with a golden light in them that made you-

"What are you even taking notes of, smartass? The dude hasn't even started talking yet"

You glanced at Jean with an almost surprised look on your face. He never really talked to you in the few weeks you've known each other - let alone call you names, with such a smug smile plastered across his face. Hot, hot anger filled your chest looking at the curve of his lips. But the intense feeling made you, if anything, more confused, and you turned your head back to your notes without a reaction.

That's when Jean's dear habit of annoying you on purpose started.

He couldn't stand how rigid you seemed when it came to him, anything he said, did or joked about. He couldn't stand how cold and quiet you became whenever he appeared, even if he just saw you having the time of your life with Sasha moments before. He couldn't stand how you rolled your big bambi eyes under those glasses, or how your nose wrinkled in distaste whenever he would banter with Connie, as if his humor were too immature for your liking. He couldn't stand how you stiffened up around him, thinking that he couldn't see through that thick and hard layer of ice you built for yourself to hide from him. At least he told himself that he couldn't stand it.

He secretly loved it, every single moment of it.

It became an addiction. He started looking for every bit of reaction, every tiny motion of the muscles of your face and your body, getting irritated merely by the sight of him. The pure excitement he felt from taking every single chance to deepen the visible tension and irritation you felt... Was indescribable.

Sasha and Connie were always entertained by the intensifying back-and-forth between you two, but Jean was downright amused. Exhilarated. He enjoyed himself a little bit too much listening to you snapping back at every snarky remark he made towards you, your insults getting sharper and meaner every time you two would bicker.

Maybe you weren't so rigid and mousy after all..?

"That's common law, smarty pants" Jean's unmistakable, cynical voice scared the living shit out of you as it appeared right by your face out of nowhere. He laughed loudly as you jumped from your seat in shock. An infuriating heat filled your chest as you realized how you didn't even notice him bending down behind you so closely, watching you writing your notes.

But an even more irritating heat was the one flooding your face from feeling the hot breath of Jean on your ear, as he spoke so close to you...

You felt the warmth making your face go red, then flowing right through your body. What the hell is happening?

"Common law will be my shoe's rightful place up your ass" you replied harshly to his snarky comment, turning your face back down towards the notes, trying to hide the fact that you were blushing. All hell would break loose if he noticed you displaying any sign of embarassment at his actions. Jean threw himself in the chair right across from you, Sasha and Connie taking the ones on each of your sides.

Oh, he noticed, he very much did.

"Alright, grandpa. You'll have to be a little less stiff if you want any part of your body to be inside of me" he said, eyes piercing right through your hands that tried to hide the rosy tint of your cheeks. Jean couldn't help the satisfied smile growing wider on his face, as he watched you scrabble some nervous nonsense on the paper in front of you. He barely saw you being flustered, especially blushing.

He almost found it kind of cute.

"In your dreams, dumbass" you muttered, trying to disappear under the hood of your sweatshirt. The feeling that Jean left behind on your ear still tingled the same, and you couldn't even comprehend the words you were currently jotting down.

Jean shifted in his chair, spreading his legs a little more as a heat of your insults ran through him as well. He had no idea what made it so addicting to draw such nasty remarks out of those innocent-looking lips of yours, but he liked it.

"I don't think the library is the best place for you to start being inside of each other" Sasha stated her honest opinion, unwrapping the third sandwich of this eventful morning. Jean blankly stared at her.

"Where are these even coming from? You don't even have a backpack with you"

"A better question would be where these are even going" Connie watched the sandwich longingly, as it rapidly kept disappearing in the black hole that seemed to be Sasha's mouth. "Can I get a bite though?"

"No!"

"Sasha!" you bursted out laughing as a whole slice of tomato flew from Sasha's swift and jealous hand movement, plopping right on top of your notes. It barely even touched the paper though, Connie's quick fingers already grabbed it, hunting it down like he was dying from hunger. "Thanks"

"No problem, bro" Connie shrugged, as the slice of tomato was already on its way down to his stomach.

"Bro-zoned" Jean pouted in your direction, and you quickly grew annoyed again, looking at his cynically sad expression. How nonchalantly he was leaning back in the library chair, just casually manspreading, made the heat of the anger almost unbearable in your chest.

"You must've been thinking really hard about that, I smell smoke"

"Bruh" Sasha reacted with a mouth full of food, and Jean hissed in pain.

"That was the lamest shit I've heard today, and Connie's been talking since 5 am, non-stop" he shook his head. You started grinding your teeth together as you heard Sasha let out a chuckle.

"Hey!" Connie frowned, utterly offended. "I already told you I'm done talking for today, get off my ass"

"I would think of better comebacks, but my neurons have literally no time regenerating, you're always here" you grimaced at Jean.

"You were the one who desperately wanted a study date with me last night, wiseass" Jean smiled, eyes looking right into yours, with that smug look on his face again. He crossed his arms together, and you felt yourself exploding with anger. The black t-shirt he wore that morning hugged his biceps tightly, his forearms looking annoyingly big and bulky in this position.

You swore you wanted to bite the flesh off of those arms.

"I did NOT want to study in your presence, I can guarantee your dumb ass that, bu-"

"Agh, get over yourself, you fucking nerd, you know you'd miss me" Jean cut you off with a smirk so nasty, that you could feel the familiar heat spread across your cheeks again.

The sudden tension you felt from his low-lidded eyes piercing into yours made you freeze for a second.

"I'm so done with you guys, we're not getting any work done because of your squabbling" Sasha threw the ball of plastic wrap she just made right at Jean's temple, and you let out a quiet chuckle at the sight. Still looking into each other's eyes, for a moment, it felt like Jean and you were smiling together, for once in this lifetime - but it ended before you could even think of that.

"Their what?" Connie laughed.

"What are you talking about? You're literally having a royal breakfast right now" Jean scoffed at Sasha, who looked back at him with big, hungry eyes.

"And I'm going to finish it, Jean. Don't press me" she stared right into his eyes as she pulled out a chocolate bar from the inside pocket of her denim jacket. Your anger was nowhere in sight - you and Connie were having the time of your life giggling at her like a bunch of middle schoolers. Jean was a bit more tense, staring back at her with a motionless, blank expression.

"I'm going to flip my shit"

"Bro, chill" Sasha chuckled and you slapped your palm onto the surface of the table with a loud thud.

"BRO-ZONED"

"You're such an original piece of work" Jean's look slowly panned to you like you were the most pathetic nerd he ever laid eyes on. That's exactly what he thought to himself.

"Someone has to be, you bastard"

"Dipshit"

That growing confidence in you lasted exactly until the moment you were paired with Jean Kirstein for the project that would largely determine your grade for the semester in this one particular class.

You were devastated. Frozen by the shock of hearing your names together, while you felt Jean's eyes burning a hole on the side of your face. You just knew he had a huge grin on his face. And you were right.

He was almost ashamed of how amused he found himself seeing you absolutely shattered. His teeth bit down on his lower lip as he tried to make the smile on his face stop growing.

This couldn't even get any better.

"Jean, I'm going to slit my throat with this piece of paper" you stated with a lifeless voice while Jean smirked, between his teeth was the end of the pen that he snitched right out of your hand for the fourth time this afternoon. You tried to get this stupid project over with and work with him in the library, but that was obviously a dumb idea.

"Go ahead" Jean replied calmly, slowly turning the pen between his teeth as he locked his eyes on your face. He loved the sight of it getting more and more expressive as your frustration intensified. You pursed your soft lips together in anger, and took off your glasses to rub the bridge of your nose.

Jean was waiting for the insults to come, though. You thought so highly of yourself and clearly found him so immature - so he would give you exactly that. You want him being childish, you'll get it.

He was bored and would do anything just to get a reaction out of you.

"Hey!" you yelled as he suddenly took the glasses you held between your fingers and leaned back to dodge your immediate attack, trying to get it back. He put it on his head and pushed it back on his soft brown strands of hair, using it as a headband. "You're gonna break it with your big ass head!"

"If it doesn't break on that huge wise balloon of yours, mine won't damage it any further for sure" he grinned in your face and you swore you could break that shiny white set of teeth out of his mouth, at that very moment. Jean found it rather amusing how you tried reaching him from the other side of the table, but failed miserably. So you changed tactics. "Hey, take me out to dinner first, you pervert!"

You gave up trying to solve the problem gently and quietly, just for the sake of the library's peaceful atmosphere, and jumped on Jean with a blurry vision to retrieve your eyesight. He quickly grabbed your glasses from his head and extended his arm as far back as he could sitting in that chair.

But you absolutely did not care anymore and slammed your knee right into his inner thigh to reach your goal.

Jean let out a painful yell.

"You fucking rat, you almost smashed my precious parts" he laughed as you struggled with an unwavering force. Anger blurred your vision even more, not even thinking about how your t-shirt and the soft plush of your breasts underneath pressed right into Jean's face as you leaned on him, reaching for his arm.

You grabbed a hold of his forearm, digging your nails into his skin with no hesitation, and the tension in that evil arm vanished right away, with another painful cry from Jean. But this time, you felt his voice resonating on your chest.

Heat started spreading on your face immediately. You put the retrieved glasses back on their place, and quickly got off of him to sit back in your chair… And try to disappear in it.

Jean was not laughing anymore. You didn't look at him, but you could feel the heat of his smirk burning your face even more.

He's never noticed you had breasts before.

That was clearly a dumb conclusion, but it was true. Obviously, he knew you had to be some kind of woman, at least by the looks of it, some weird specimen that he had no intentions of looking at like he looked at other girls. He never really thought of you having an actual body of a woman under those baggy jeans and cargos, and big ass hoodies you always wore to class.

Until now.

He unintentionally started to wonder - what else could you be hiding under those baggy t-shirts?

He shifted in his seat, ever so slightly fixing his jeans where it started to become a little tight around his inner thigh. You were yet to speak a word, frantically turning the pages of your book, pretending you were looking for something very important. Jean's eyes fixated on your face, your long eyelashes batting downwards under your glasses, your cheeks and nose dusted with a pink tint under the small freckles.

You were clearly extremely flustered.

A smile started to form on his face as his look swiftly shifted to your plump lips, nervously bit down on by your teeth. His eyes slipped down onto your thin silver necklace hugging the smooth skin of your neck. Your neck looked so delicate, so soft and innocent to him at that moment.

His attention wandered down to the baggy white band shirt covering the skin on your chest - that was pressed right into his face just a few seconds before.

"Are you going to finally contribute something to this damn thing, or are you planning on sitting there like a retarded fish for the rest of the day?" you muttered without ever looking up at him, and he smiled at your remark.

The color of your flustered cheeks suddenly became his new favorite color.

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Chapter 8

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, anxiety, I don’t know how car insurance works sue me, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: This one’s a heavy one…

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

Javy hates the way his heart hammers in his chest, to the point that he swears that he can hear the echo in the single-stall bathroom. There isn’t really anywhere to sit and the toilet doesn’t have a lid so he’s planted his back against his wall for support as he squats awkwardly and removes his gear. He’s sweating like a pig at this point. Being in full gear isn’t anything new, but usually, the rink is at least cold and your classroom when packed with two dozen kids and at least half as many parents hasn’t exactly been a picnic. It’s worth it though, for that tiny smile you’ve had on your face since you saw him. Well, he and Jake, but he’s trying not to think too hard about that. You hadn’t corrected him when he called you Meep either. Hope tightens the noose around his heart as he glances at where he’s hung your keys on the hook on the back of the door.

He peels his gear off, wrinkling his nose at the smell and wishing that he had asked if there was a gym locker room he could use so he could jump in the shower but he figured an elementary school probably wouldn’t have those. Once he’s gotten out of his gear and he’s left standing amid the pile like a fool, he’s still hesitating to put on his clean clothes. He knows that hockey players stink. God knows his sisters and mom complained enough growing up. He wants to make a good impression. He steps over the mess on the floor over to the sink. He looks from the paper towel dispenser to the sink before he shrugs. He dampens a folded paper towel and does his best to wipe himself down. It’s not the same as a shower but it's something. He tugs on his clean clothes and sprays himself with a few spritzes of cologne for good measure before he stuffs the sweaty gear into his duffle. When he’s done, he grabs your keys, examining your ID badge. In the picture, you’re smiling at the camera, albeit in that shy way you always do, significantly different than the way you smile around your students. The plastic of your ID is almost completely covered by little stickers that he knows must be your students’ handiwork and he smiles to himself as he leaves the bathroom, and fumbles to find the key you’d taken great effort to make sure he wouldn’t forget, locking the room behind him before he heads back the way you’d gone.

***

When you get back to your classroom, Jake and Josie have fallen into an easy conversation that you’re sure comes from the familiarity of having known each other for the last five months. They both look up when you come in. Jake makes a show of looking around you for Javy before he quirks an eyebrow at you. “You left him there by himself? What if he falls in!” You roll your eyes and don’t miss the way Jake’s smile widens when you do.

“Jake, I teach kindergarteners for a living, and I promise you, no one actually falls in.” He laughs at that and Josie gives you an impressed look as you cross past them to get to your desk and you pull out your lunch before looking at the sandwich that Jake’s eating that looks suspiciously like the one in Josie’s hands. “You packed them lunch?” You ask as Josie reveals a third sandwich, placing it on an empty corner that’s now been silently assigned to Javy. Josie shrugs.

“Call it a motherly instinct. I know what Penny suggests for them since I cook for Reuben so I thought I’d make them something to hold them over until they get back to work.” Jake thanks her through a full mouth and both you and Josie make a face of disgust. “Jake Seresin, you’re a grown man, don’t talk with your mouth full.” Josie admonishes and Jake has the good sense to look chagrinned as he swallows.

“Thanks for coming, by the way.” You speak up before you forget to thank Jake. “It really means a lot to the kids.”

Jake waves your thanks off. “I love visiting schools. It was my favorite thing to do back when I was back in Dallas. I got to go to my old elementary school a few times, and nothing really comes close to that.”

“Says the man who’s won a cup before,” Josie says, arching an eyebrow.

“Well one of the times I went was when I took said cup there, so the joke’s on you, Jo.” She rolls her eyes and goes back to her sandwich. The door opens and Javy comes back into the room. Josie gestures to a chair at the closest desk to yours and Javy pulls it up. When you see him fold his much-too-large body into the tiny chair, you wince as you take your keys back from him.

“Here, Javy, we can switch seats if you want?” You start to stand up but he waves you off.

“Don’t worry about it, Meep.” You see Josie raise an eyebrow at you in response to the nickname but she doesn’t say anything.

“Meep?” Jake says, but his voice is garbled around another bite of sandwich and both you and Josie glare at him.

“JAKE!” He puts a hand up in apology and swallows as Javy grins at him.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, but Meep? What’s that about?”

Javy shrugs as he unwraps his sandwich. “She’s the Roadrunner, right? So, Meep,” he shrugs as he takes a bite of his sandwich as Jake snorts.

“You realize the Roadrunner says ‘beep beep’ right? Not ‘meep meep.’” Javy stops chewing mid-bite. Jake bursts out laughing at Javy’s reaction and you can’t help the smile that twists the edge of your mouth. Javy frowns at Jake but you can tell it’s in a comedic sense.

“How was I supposed to know that!” He complains indignantly when he finishes swallowing. “It’s not like it enunciates!” A giggle rises in your throat at the sight of these two grown men cramped into your students’ chairs bickering about Looney Tunes. Javy turns to you at the sound and opens his mouth presumably to say something but he’s interrupted by your door swinging open without warning. Your expression shutters instantly and your lips purse into a thin line as Jeremy comes in. He’s wearing a chagrinned expression that can’t be good.

“No way, you know Mark said he thought he saw you guys walk by his classroom? But I didn’t believe him.”

“What do you want, Jeremy?” Josie says in a tone that sounds bored. “If you came to bother the ogle hockey players, you’re going to have to buy a ticket.”

“Oh, right.” He shrugs. “When Mark and I were going to lunch, we noticed that it looked like someone had accidentally backed into your car, Roadie.”

“WHAT?” You can’t help the indignant squawk that comes out of your mouth laced with panic as you scramble to your feet, lunch forgotten.

“What’s to say you and Mark didn’t do it?” Josie says cooly, eyes narrowing. Jeremy looks shocked at the suggestion.

“Why would I even bother lying about that? My insurance would cover the damage if I did. My guess is that it was one of the parents who came in for career day.” You shake your head, unable to wrap your head around the news. You grab your keys in a haze, needing to see the proof for yourself.

“Roadie wait!” You hear Josie call out from behind you, but you don’t stop, shoving Jeremy out of the way when you get to the doorway and speedwalking towards the parking lot. When you get outside you all but run to where you park every day and your heart sinks as you look at your car, or at least what’s left of it. Backed into it is an understatement. The extent of the rear damage means that whoever did so was in a hurry and you blink hurriedly to try and stave back tears as you stare at the mess that’s what’s left of your car.

“Fuck…” You turn to see that Javy’s followed you. “Did they leave a note or anything?” Javy crosses over to inspect the windshield of your car. When he comes back empty-handed he shakes his head in disbelief. “Maybe they talked to someone in the front office?”

“Roadie, there you are! SHIT!” Josie and Jake make it to where you’re still frozen, staring at your car. Javy’s saying something to Jake that you can’t hear before Jake nods and heads back toward the building.

“I asked Jake to go see if whoever did this left their information with the office. Shit, Roadie, I’m so sorry.” As Javy apologizes, you feel the first fat traitorous tear escape your eyes.

“Oh honey,” Josie says as she notices the tear carving a line down your face, your lips quivering. She wraps you in her arms and you hide your face in her chest. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.” She rubs your back encouragingly. “That poor car was on its last legs as it was. You said you’ve had it since you were in high school?”

“College,” you sniffle. “It was a graduation present from my parents when I moved out to go to college. And she’s not that old, she drove just fine.” Josie gives you a squeeze before letting you go and you wipe furiously at your damp cheeks that you’re sure are already starting to get puffy.

“You should probably call a tow, and then give your insurance a call.” She points out and you wince. You hate making phone calls, even though it’s an important part of your job, and you can’t help the way that you squirm at the idea.

“I’ll call the tow.” Javy pipes up and you look at him, surprised, having forgotten he was still here. “Take some pictures of the damage and we can go from there.” You nod wordlessly. “I can give you a lift home too, if you want?” The sentiment is appreciated but you shake your head.

“That’s okay, Javy, I’ll just get a ride home with Josie,” but Josie shakes her head too.

“Sorry Roadie, I’ve got parent-teacher conferences today, and the kids are just going to hang out with after-school care until I’m done. Go with Javy.”

“But we still have afternoon classes, I can’t leave yet.”

“I’ll come back and pick you up. Just tell me what time.” Javy says like it’s that simple.

“She should be done by 4,” Josie says before you can protest.

“Perfect, I’ll be there,” Javy says. “Now I’m going to call the tow, so I’d take whatever you need to out of the car.” You’ve given up control of the argument at this point so you just do what he asks.

“I’m going to go ask the custodians about getting some stuff to clean up the broken tail lights.” She heads after Jake back into the school, leaving you and Javy alone.

You collect your stuff in silence as Javy makes the phone call a few feet away. He’s finished by the time you’ve stuffed everything in your car into two grocery bags that you found under a seat since your trunk is jammed shut at the moment. You haul the bags around the other side of the car and place them by your feet as Javy gives you a once-over. “You okay, Meep?”

You let your shoulders slump as the exhaustion sets in. “Not really,” you whisper and he nods slowly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You shrug and he just waits.

“I just… I just really can’t afford a new car right now.” You whisper. “And I know fixing my car isn’t going to be worth it, and I just… I don’t know what to do.”

“I could buy you a car,” Javy says nonchalantly and you wait for the laugh and when it doesn’t come you turn to gape at him.

“JAVY, I’m not letting you buy me a car!”

“Why not?” He says, cocking his head to the side. “I can afford it. You can’t. And let’s face it, if you’d decided to sue me, maybe you would be able to. So, let me buy you a car.”

“No.” You frown at him. “No, absolutely not, Javy, I can’t let you do that.” You shake your head firmly. He looks like he’s thinking about arguing. “Javy, I mean it. I’m not letting you buy me a car.” You cross your arms across your chest.

“Fine, fine.” He relents. “Then at least let me lend you one of my cars.” You gawk at him.

“Cars? As in plural?” You stammer and he shrugs.

“Yeah, I have three, and as you know, I only really need one.” You shake your head in disbelief.

“Still, I don’t think I could drive any of your cars, Javy… no offense.” He must realize what you mean and he laughs.

“Oh don’t worry, they’re not all like the one you rode in. That one’s mostly for show. It’s the one the press recognizes and the one I usually take girls in. I think I have the perfect one for you, actually.” He must see the skepticism in your eyes so he adds, “I can show you after work if you want? And then you can decide.” You know you’re not exactly in the position to be picky right now so you relent and nod.

“Looking can’t hurt,” you say and he smiles.

“Perfect.”

***

By the time the school day finally comes to an end, you’re exhausted. Javy ended up taking the bags from your car with him so you didn’t have to find space for them in your classroom and Jake and Josie got the front office to see what they can do to try and pull footage from the security tapes in the parking lot to find out who hit your car. You had to make the call to your insurance company while your students took their afternoon nap and you just want to go home and take an early night. You’re packing up your things after helping with pickup duty when a knock at your door makes you look up. Javy waves through the window and you motion for him to come in.

“Hey, you’re early,” you say, looking up at your clock that lets you know he’s fifteen minutes early to be exact.

“Yeah, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t waiting.” He says and you give him a tired smile.

“Thanks again for doing this, and sorry for the inconvenience.” Javy shakes his head as you collect your belongings. He holds out a hand for your backpack and you tentatively hand it to him and he slings it over a shoulder with ease. The floral patterned fabric looks comical against his dark t-shirt and muscled shoulders but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Meep, you’re not an inconvenience.” He says and you can’t help the way your heart flutters at the easy yet sincere way he says it. He reaches a hand out to you and you’re surprised to find that you take it, letting him hold your hand as the two of you walk out.

When you get to the parking lot, Javy leads you toward a forest-green Range Rover SUV. “This is my usual ride.” He explains, before opening the trunk and placing your backpack next to the bags you’d sent with him earlier. As Javy pulls out of the parking lot he turns to you. “I don’t want you to feel like I only offered to drive you because I wanted to get you alone, but I’ve been wanting to talk to you. Well, more like apologize to you.” You twist the seatbelt nervously as Javy finally addresses the elephant in the room.

“What I did that day wasn’t just shitty, it wasn’t fair to you.”

“I mean it wasn’t really though?” You say, shifting your gaze down to your lap. “Even when we signed the contract, I knew there would be other girls, you know? I mean you have needs and I told you I wouldn’t have sex with you. I just… I guess I expected you to be more private about it since we were supposed to be dating.” When Javy doesn’t say anything you look up to see him gaping at you.

“You thought I’d be seeing other girls while I was dating you?” His voice is touched with disbelief and you try to ignore his word choice.

“I mean there wasn’t exactly a celibacy clause, and sure I never planned on seeing anyone else, but that didn’t mean I expected you not to.” You shrug. “It’s not like your job was on the line.”

“Roadie no… no… I… I never had any intention of seeing other girls when I was with you. I just…” He sighs and you think maybe it sounds a bit shaky. “Hold on,” he makes a turn and you look up in time to see him pull into a fast food parking lot. Once he parks, he turns his attention fully to you. “I mean it. I didn’t plan on seeing anyone else while we were dating.”

“Pretending to date,” you interject and he nods.

“Right, yes,” he says. “Look, I haven’t been in a real relationship in years, Roadie. I just… well I told you some of it already. I’ve had a lot of people leave me in my life: my dad, my uncle, Jake. And I know it’s not a good reason, but I hated how that made me feel. I hated being left alone so I never wanted to feel that way again, and I didn’t want to ever make someone else feel that way, so I decided that casual relationships were the best way to do that. The girls always knew it wasn’t going to turn into anything real, I was always very adamant that they knew that going in, and so they didn’t care if I left, and I didn’t care when I did. And then I met you, and I know it was supposed to be an act, but it, it was the closest thing I’d had to something real in a long time and I got scared. Seeing our pictures in the tabloids, and then meeting people at your job, and meeting your kids, it felt so real and the idea of it ending, knowing it would hurt, freaked me out.”

“I was flirting with those girls before I even fully thought about it. I didn’t even consider that it would hurt you the way it did because I was so busy worrying about how I didn’t want to get hurt, and I’m sorry about that. I really never intended to hurt you. I promised you that I wouldn’t and I broke that promise and I’m so sorry.” When you look up from your hands, you see Javy’s eyes widen in response to the tears tracking down your cheeks.

“When I was a senior in high school,” you whisper and you hate how weak your voice sounds. “This guy on the football team asked me out. He wasn’t the star quarterback or anything but I’d never had a boyfriend before. I’d never even had a boy give me the time of day, and I was so excited that I forgot to be nervous. He wanted me. He actually wanted someone like me.” You smile slightly through the tears as they keep flowing. “He was perfect. He was so sweet and thoughtful. I didn’t really have any friends in high school and for the first time, I wasn’t alone. It felt so nice.” You wrap your arms around yourself to try and keep your hands from shaking. “And then he took me to prom and it was perfect, it felt like a dream come true. Then I went to the bathroom to touch up my makeup and I guess I didn’t take as much time as he expected because when I got back all his friends were high-fiving him and giving him money.” You swallow to try and dispel the lump in your throat but it won’t go away. You shake your head. “Turns out they’d had a bet over it all. It was all just a game to them.” You hate how small you sound but you manage to get the words out. “I felt so stupid that I didn’t see it sooner, you know? But I never once considered it or questioned why he’d want to be with me of all people. It must have been a lot of money if he was willing to put up with me for four whole months.” You’re shaking now. You’ve never told anyone the truth about Andrew. Not even your parents knew, you’d just told them that you’d broken up because you were going separate ways for college.

“Roadie…” You have to force yourself to look up at Javy. You expect pity, second-hand embarrassment maybe, but what you’re met with is white-hot rage. You flinch away on instinct at the intensity in Javy’s eyes. “What’s his name? I’m going to kill him.” You start with surprise at Javy’s words.

“It was over a decade ago, Javy, it doesn’t matter.” You shake your head, trying to talk him down. Javy shakes his head back and then he’s opening his door and getting out of the car. You sit up straighter, trying to see where he’s going and you’re surprised to find he’s coming around to your side. For a second, you consider locking the door in a moment of fear but you leave it. Javy said he wouldn’t hurt you. Javy swings your door open and before you can ask him what’s going on, he wraps you in his arms, pulling you close. You squeak in surprise, your seatbelt digging into your neck at the awkwardness of the position.

“It does matter. It clearly still makes you upset, so yes it does matter. You matter.” He enunciates the last sentence as he squeezes you tight. “And I’m so sorry that that happened to you, and I’m even more sorry if I ever for a single moment made you feel like you were reliving that.” Your heart aches as you lean into Javy’s touch and take a deep breath, breathing in the now-familiar scent of him. There’s a touch of sweat under the usual cloud of cologne but instead of wrinkling your nose at the intrusion, you sink into it, relishing in its familiarity.

***

You’re not sure how long you and Javy stay locked in the embrace but eventually, your neck hurts enough that you pull away. When Javy looks at you he notices the seatbelt digging into your neck and hisses at the sight as he instantly goes to slide his warm hand between your skin and the belt. “Shit, Roadie, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” you reassure him and when he looks at you, you know that he understands that your words are about more than just the seatbelt. He leans his head against the frame of the car and looks down at you for a moment longer before he looks behind him at the fast food place you’ve found yourselves in the parking lot of.

“You hungry?” He asks and you give him a watery smile as you nod.

***

Not long after, Javy’s back on the road and you’re eating fries next to him as San Diego traffic crawls around the car. “Look,” Javy says, breaking the comfortable food-induced silence you’ve descended into. “I know you told Zam you wanted out of the contract, but you still need to make sure you can keep your job, right?” You nod, taking a sip of your drink as you consider what Javy’s proposing.

“We have a better idea of where we’re both coming from now, and I think we could do this right if we tried again, but it’s up to you.” You nod slowly as you take a bite of your burger and hold out the fries to Javy’s outstretched hand.

“I think so,” you say slowly, “everyone already thinks we’re dating, and like you said, I do still need a solution to my job problem.”

“I’d want to propose a few changes to the original plan, though,” Javy speaks up and you nod carefully as he smiles around the fries he tosses into his mouth. “Maybe I’m not your real boyfriend, but I’d like to be your friend if that’s okay with you.” You smile shyly around your straw as you nod.

“I think that could be arranged.” You say and he grins at you.

“Good, and I’m going to be straight up with you. I won’t see other girls. I don’t want to see other girls. And it’s not an inconvenience. You’re not an inconvenience, not to me, and if I ever make you feel like you are? You have full authority to kick my ass.” You giggle and he fixes you with a hard look. “I mean it, Meep, if not you then I suppose Josie can do it, I’m sure she’s dying to at this point.” You make a point to look away with a shy smile when he gives you a knowing look. “And the minute you don’t want to do this anymore? Say the word and we’re done. No fuss, no bus.”

“Okay,” you say and Javy reaches across the console to squeeze your hand in his.

“I’m not very good at this, whether it's real or fake boyfriend stuff, but I’m going to try as hard as I can to do it right this time. I promise I won’t hurt you, and this time I’m going to keep that promise. As the traffic continues to crawl and you listen to Javy chatter on about anything and everything, you wonder if you’re going to be able to keep up your half of the bargain, because while you don’t have much experience in the friend or girlfriend department, you’re sure that what you’re starting to feel for Javy is more than friendship.

A/N: So I know there was a lot in that chapter, but how are we feeling about the big reveal?

[iamverynormalaboutsge]

I want to cry when I think of the old gen in SGE.

You're telling me it's canon that Lady Lesso was Callis' Dean (With Callis being the not-so-ugly uglification teacher).

It's cannon that Lady Lesso absolutely despised Evelyn and Rafal because hello, Evelyn ratted her out and Rafal forced her to make a choice, BUT THEN Evelyn and Rafal's son (Japeth) is obsessed with Lady Lesso's son (Aric).

It's cannon that 2 generations, no, THREE generations of evil were obsessed with Sophie? Rafal(love interest), Rhian(Love interest)/Japeth(Interest) and Evelyn(Interest). Although truth be told Evelyn was probably a bit irritated after she read the Story of Agatha and Sophie and saw Sophie kissing Rafal. Maybe she pushed it to the side with 'Oh it's fine, he's just using her'. Ok Miss Clown and you think he ain't using you? She probably realized he is when he turned her to dust.

Do you guys ever think that Sophie thinks that she practically dated a father and his son(s)? As we know her probably not.

Here's my question, I can't exactly recall if in book 5 when we are shown how Rhian and Japeth's existence came about if Rafal was young and beautiful or not(aka if he was old).

But if he WASN'T old and ugly then what happened in the meantime? How did he turn wrinkled and ugly as hell?

Was he also ugly or not when he tried to propose with Calissa? Cuz I can't remember for the life of me.

Are we also just gonna ignore that Evelyn was practically on the streets and that the Green Knight, the OG Japeth took care of her? Talk about being a deadbeat dad Rafal (cough RHIAN cough).

How does he keep seducing all these women?! I mean with Calissa it was a fail, Sophie was easily manipulated, and hell only knows what Evelyn's thinking process was given how easily she dismissed her each time she tried to be 'useful' to him.

Do you guys think Rafal knew that Japeth liked Aric? And if so is that why he made Aric the Dean of New evil(besides his own...evilness and the fact that he is Lady Lesso's son and inherited her magic).

We don't forget that 'Rafal' literally laughed when he was told he'd have to marry a woman for evil, right? Right? And then he became the Number 1 playboy. But the apple doesn't fall far from the tree because his true name sake(Rhian) took Sophie for the same reason (power) as his father while liking Kei and Japeth, the son that took after him, took Sophie with the intent of reviving Aric.

(I still refuse to believe Japeth was conscious of how Aric would act towards him when he came back. Japeth x Aric feels like it has a weird symmetry to Evelyn x Rafal due to the possible toxicity between the two given Aric was low-key homophobic. Well... More than low-key but that's beside the point)

[corpsebasil]

Princes and Prostitutes +18

Nikolai and Y/N, the absolute meanest, most ridiculous pirate queen of the seas, had been running for their lives the past few days.

They’d been hiding in inns, taverns, and even went so far as to squash themselves together in the contraband compartment in someone’s wagon, all in hopes to escape the Stadwatch that trailed their every movements. The guards seemed to have a sixth sense for the two privateers, and the two of them were sick of being squashed together at all hours. It was all his fault, too, for bickering with her over who was docking where in Ketterdam, only for them to damage their own ships and take out several others by accident.

Hers was wrecked beyond belief and was being worked on, the dock crew promising to have it sent to Ravka with some other travelers as long as she didn’t wind up in jail. She bristled at the idea of anyone else operating her ship, but she didn’t have much of a choice.

Idiot, that’s what he was, and she’d gladly informed him of it.

“Come on,” Nikolai whispered, tugging the girl along as they ducked into an alleyway. Saints, he really was an idiot. It was a dead end. “Dammit we—” he paused, head snapping around when he heard the approaching sound of guards. “We’re going to die.”

“You’re going to die.” She argued, glancing around the alley. The only people other than them were a couple of prostitutes and their night’s customers, tucked into different areas and ignoring everyone else with trained skill. Her nose wrinkled. “Nevermind. We might.”

“Quick,” Nikolai said, yanking his cloak off as he backed against the dark wall, his face covered in shadow. “act like a whore.”

“Excuse me?”

“They’re almost here just do it.”

She opened her mouth to snap at him but tensed when she heard the footsteps growing closer; they were right around the corner, and she sure as hell hadn’t planned on spending the rest of her years in a sinkhole of a prison. Nikolai seemed to read the expression on her face and tugged her forward, almost tripping her when he yanked her completely up against him.

She bristled at the proximity, even more so when one of his arms wrapped around her waist, the other hand slipping into her hair as if to play with it. He smirked, the playboy incarnate, and tilted his head down towards hers. She hated to admit it, but he smelled really, really good, and he was even more handsome up close than she’d realized.

“I still hate you.” She whispered, glaring up at him, at those blue eyes filled with mischief. And as the first Stadwatch rounded the corner, searching for two criminals on the run, he simply smiled and said, “You can kill me later.”, before lowering his mouth to hers.

She pressed her hands against his chest hard, attempting to keep some space between them, but his mouth was—and she—

Her eyes slipped closed as her hands clenched tightly around the material of his shirt, and pressed her body closer to his. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped him harder, her restraint breaking when his hand pressed deeper into her break and his fingers carded through her hair.

After five or so minutes, all signs of the guards, and the prostitutes, were gone. Clearly whoever their customers were were eager to get out of the way of the officers, likely criminals in their own rights. But Nikolai had now gotten Y/N pinned against the wall instead of himself, and was kissing her languidly, as if they had all the time in the world instead of only the next few minutes they’d bought themselves with their ruse.

“Nik—” she gasped against his mouth, attempting to push him away, but he only smirked again, and nipped her bottom lip. She jolted in surprise, opening her mouth to curse at him, but he only took the opportunity to slide his tongue over the injured lip, and her brain emptied of the harsh words she’d been preparing. “Nik.” She repeated on a sigh, and he let out a small noise of pleasure, pulling her left leg up and wrapping it around his waist.

With the difference in the angle between them he was able to press his hips roughly against her own, and she made a sound that crossed between a gasp and a moan. He stiffened, pulling his head back half an inch and scanning her face.

“If you make a sound like that again I’m going to take you right here in this alleyway.”

Her stomach dropped and she shoved him off, ignoring her flushed cheeks and likely swollen lips. But then he grinned, that shit-eating, sarcastic grin of his, and her glare was right back on her face.

“I’m not interested in other pirates.” She scoffed, wiping her mouth as if to remove evidence of his kisses. “I like my men powerful. And not on the seas.”

He tilted his head thoughtfully.

“Technically, I’m also a—”

A loud crack of thunder echoed around them as the skies began to open up, Y/N tilting her face up to receive the first droplets. Her mood darkened further. She had no intentions of walking around like a wet cat; she’d catch her death in this weather.

“Here,” Nikolai offered, quickly shrugging off his jacket and holding it over her head like an umbrella.

“I don’t need your stupid jacket.” She snapped, and began walking away, stomping down the street towards the nearest inn. He followed without comment and did his best to bite back a smile when he pressed closer and wrapped his jacket over the both of them, and she didn’t protest.

They were quiet as they walked, but his heart was still thrumming in his chest. Sure, she annoyed him, and had the temperament of a feral raccoon, but there was no denying her beauty, or the fact that when she’d moaned when he pushed his hips against hers…

He stifled a rush of desire and forced himself not to look down at her, and not to breathe in the sweet smell of her perfume too deeply. A smell that was slowly being washed away by the rain, his jacket beginning to soak, and with no small ounce of relief they pushed through the door of a shoddy looking inn and stepped into the dry warmth.

The innkeeper barely gave them a second glance before handing them a room key. Y/N insisted on two, and rather than fight with her anymore, he grumbled his annoyance and slid the extra cost across the counter. He snatched up the second key and began walking towards the stairs, eager for a hot bath, maybe change his clothes…

Y/N kept right in step with him, only to knock him aside with her hip as she cut in front of him to the stairs. She squeaked out loud when his hands grabbed her waist and he picked her up, turning to set her back down behind him. Her arms crossed.

“Really?” She asked, rolling her eyes. “It’s just stairs.”

“No cutting in line.” He grinned when she cursed under her breath, but didn’t try it again as they made their way up to their rooms. His floor was first, so he gave her a mocking salute as she continued up, his eyes catching a glimpse of her backside in her tight, way too tight, pants.

“Stop looking at my ass, Lantsov.” She called down, not even turning as she wounded a step and moved out of sight.

He was still chuckling to himself when he unlocked his room, shut the door, and began running himself a bath.

***

Y/N was brushing her hair when a knock hit her door. At first she jumped; but if it was the Stadwatch, they would’ve simply barged in. Mumbling under her breath she stood, tightening the thin robe the inn had provided around her, and opened the door.

Nikolai stood front of her, his arm braced against the doorway, a fresh shirt and pants on him. His hair was damp, and a piece of it was stuck to his forward. Her fingers itched to push it away, but instead she cocked her head, tapping a bare foot on the floor.

“Can I help you?” She asked sweetly, mockingly sweet, but for once he didn’t smirk. In fact, his grin was half-hearted when he replied.

“Just…making sure you didn’t drown in your bath.”

“How kind.” She waited in silence for him to continue, but when he just kept glancing around her room, then at her, she sighed impatiently. “Nik, what are you—”

He moved forward and shut the door, his hands immediately darting up to grasp her face as he kissed her. It was harsher than the ones in the alleyway, more bruising and rushed, and she choked on a surprised gasp before she shoved him off.

“What the hell—you can’t just—”

“Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll leave.” He promised, eyes burning down at her, and her mouth went dry. She looked around the room as if for another exit, but he touched her face again. “Y/N, tell me.”

“I—” her voice faltered as she looked at his mouth, and that was all the permission he needed before he kissed her again, backing her up towards the bed.

Her back hit the mattress with a soft groan, her mouth parting on a sigh when he climbed over her, pressing every inch of that glorious body of his against her. His kissed her mouth, then her jaw, and she whispered his name reverently as her fingers clutched him to her. His lips trailed warm kisses down her neck, and then his free hand tugged at the ties of her robe, and she sat up on her elbows to watch him.

His eyes took her in as he parted the fabric, a mumbled curse leaving those perfect lips. She would’ve grinned, if only for the fact that he hadn’t bent down and put his mouth on her chest, licking her and making her head fall back on a moan.

“You’re gorgeous.” He breathed, moving down to her stomach, tugging her robe off as he went. “Your body is…” he didn’t finish, only paused above her navel, listening to her shallow breathing as he neared the apex of her thighs. “I should corner you in alleyways more often, shouldn’t I?” He teased.

“This was your…evil plan, huh?” She let out a breathy laugh, her heart quickening when he picked up that same left leg and tucked it over her shoulder. “Wreck my ship just so you can—oh.” She gasped and almost choked on it when he licked her slowly, then circled his tongue around the bud he then sucked gently on. “Nik.” Her voice practically whined his name, and his chuckle sent vibrations across her center.

“Tell me how it feels, love.” He said against her, before slipping his fingers between her legs, deep.

She only gasped his name, her heel digging into his back. She was definitely going to bruise him but she didn’t care, not when her fingers were locked in a vise like grip on his curls and his mouth was doing that to her.

“You’re shaking.” He observed, adding a bit more pressure with his tongue, and she tugged his hair harder, her voice cracking in half when she spoke.

“Nik I’m—”

“I know.” He said, cocky bastard that he was, and she came, barely able to yank in a sharp breath into her lungs as her body jerked with the shot of intense pleasure that blossomed up between her legs. Her foot pressed harder against his back before she weakened, shoving at his head and when the sensitivity became too much.

He still licked her one more time anyways, for good measure, and she could’ve smacked him for it.

She was exhausted, but she still reached for the waist of his pants, only to see him retreating from her.

“Where are you—” she asked, watching him walk to the other side of the bed. He tugged off his shirt and pants, and blew the candles out, slipping under the covers. She followed suit, her confusion still hanging in the air when he didn’t immediately leap onto her and fuck her lights out. “Nik?”

“When I have you for the first time, it’s not going to be in some inn.” Was his explanation, rolling to face her. She snorted.

“Really? You’re not going to—?”

“Not tonight.” He said, reaching out to wind her hair around his fingers. “But I can go down on you as many times as you want me to, sweetheart.”

“I’m not your sweetheart.” She informed him, but her face still warmed at his words. Damn her, he was starting to worm his way inside of her heart. The bastard. “Do you think we’re going to make it out of here?” She whispered now, meeting his eyes.

He didn’t respond at first, only brought his face closer and kissed her softly, his nose pressed to hers as he ran a hand down her bare side, marveling at the expanse of smooth skin.

“It’s you and me, Y/N.” He told her, and nestled into her, wrapping his arm around her waist. “We always make it out of trouble.”

She laughed softly, burrowing into him. She never would have done this before today, she tried to tell herself. It definitely wasn’t chemistry that kept them on their toes around one another, their sharp tongues and attitudes covering up need. But as she ran a hand up his shoulder to touch his hair again, she felt a rush of desire so intense it almost took her breath away.

“Easy, tiger.” His dark chuckle against her hair made her redden, and she nipped at his chest, making his laugh gutter out. “We’re leaving at dawn. I want you in my bedroom with nothing but your wonderful attitude.”

“You love my attitude.” She muttered, but flushed from head to toe, legs winding with his as she tried not to imagine what exactly he was planning on doing to her once they got back on his ship and left Ketterdam.

This one’s for the nasty gals you’re welcome

[prolix-yuy]

Simulated

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader Actress

Summary: You're a professional, which is why a sex scene with Dieter Bravo will be no problem at all. Now you just have to convince yourself to believe it.  

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, simulated sex, grinding, fantasizing about sex, anxiety, lil bit of size kink, probably incorrect method for filming sex scenes but I'm using what I know and making up the rest. Don't do this for real, this is fantasy and Dieter is a filthy boy.

Notes: This leapt out of my brain and was enabled by the Discord besties. Dieter brainrot is setting back in but I doubt anyone's complaining. This may be the sexiest thing I've ever written without actual sex happening, but you all can be the judge of that.

Cross-posted on AO3

Midnight Alley Masterlist

Trembling on the verge of passing out is not how you wanted your first time in Dieter Bravo’s arms to be, but no amount of reprimands to your rebelling body have worked. 

It’s not him, far from it. Dieter had been nothing but gentlemanly since you came in for scene blocking. The director offered to have stand-ins while they adjusted lighting and staged the shots, but you boldly offered to come in anyways. It wasn’t your first shoot, but it was your first sex scene, and you wanted to impress the director with your no-nonsense attitude about it. 

All that confidence flew out the window when you came face to face with your scene partner, Dieter Bravo. Well aware of his aloof playboy nature, you didn’t expect his handshake to be so warm, the quirk of his smile to make your heart flutter, or for him to smell so strongly of eucalyptus. Apparently his agent mentioned you would be there for staging, and he decided to come in to test your chemistry. No issues there, your curious eyes roaming over his wrinkled cargo pants and threadbare sweater. He could be wearing nothing and you’d still melt into a puddle. Which, shockingly, wouldn’t be that far in the future.

Calm down, girl. Be professional.

To be fair, Dieter is fucking gorgeous, even under the bloodshot eyes and air of annoyance. His curls are even softer looking in person, heavy shoulders stretching his t-shirts and bulky forearms complimenting his thick thighs. Even the little pooch of a tummy makes you salivate. While your friends drool over Tom Hiddleston or Harry Styles, your heart beats fast for men who can crush you under their bulk. “Weighted blanket boys,” you like to call them, and Dieter wholly falls into that category. 

Which is why when you got the casting call for a bit part in the crime drama Midnight Alley, which Dieter had been co-starring in for three seasons, you leapt at the opportunity. Even if you didn’t get to share a scene, at least you could catch a glimpse, maybe say hello. That was surely worth the long hours. His proclivities for casual sex definitely didn’t fit into that plan. No sir. Definitely not.

It all became real when you got the pages. Your character was a one night stand, relegated to three scenes - the bar where you make eyes across a crowd, the tasteful sex scene (though only barely - tv ratings have really changed in the last twenty years), and the morning after when he leaves to go to a crime scene. The “gaze across the smoky dance floor” was easy enough; anyone with half a brain and a pulse would blush at Dieter’s intense stare, raised eyebrow, and sly grin, a signature of his questionable character. It raises goosebumps down your arms, his parted lips and the slip of his pink tongue resting just inside, the crinkle of his eyes when he knows he’s got you. If a man ever gave you that look you’d be in his bed in moments. 

Scratch that. Not just any man. Dieter’s the only one who could pull that off.

The blocking should have evened out your nerves, and in the moment you believed it did. Dieter was an absolute gentleman, even warmer than you hoped, as you waited to be called on set.

“Ever done a scene like this before?”

“First time. Can you tell?”

He thumbed through his thicker script.

“Wasn’t going to make you more nervous by pointing it out. But yes.”

You blew out a puff of air, making Dieter smirk even more as you crinkled your sheets.

“How do we…?”

“You know the direction?”

“Yeah, it seems…straightforward.”

“Well, today we’re just going to do the major movements - positions, angles, you know - and while they mark focus and shine a light directly up my asshole, we can talk.”

A burst of giggles pulled a wider smile onto his face, waiting for you to calm yourself.

“What do we talk about?”

“What’s comfortable for you. What would pull you out of the scene. What you’re open to. You’re our guest after all.”

So your afternoon was spent pantomiming the sex acts written for you and…talking. Which wasn’t supposed to be sexy, or like two hours of incredibly hot foreplay, but your body apparently didn’t get the memo.

“Anything you really don’t want me to touch? Besides the obvious,” Dieter asked, coming down from his hands to his elbows by your face. The tip of his nose brushed briefly against yours. A hairlight shifted in your periphery.

“My ribs are pretty ticklish,” you admitted, nodding to the assistant director Ramona when she moved on to the next setup. Scooping his hands behind your back, Dieter pulled you on top, showing how to sit a little further up on his stomach to fake the grinding. Unfortunately, the plush flesh against your core didn’t help with the ache.

“Here’s okay?” he asked, wrapping his hands just under your breasts, the tips of his thumbs barely grazing the swell. You nodded, body getting jolted again when the director Adiel asked for Dieter to scoot up the bed a few inches.

“My, uh…” you said, then stopped as you lost confidence. Dieter took his hands off your chest and laced them on his own. He looked up at you expectantly. “My…nipples are really sensitive, so I know I’ll have pasties on and everything, but, it’s like, uncomfortable if they get touched certain ways. So I just wanted to…warn you of that. It shouldn’t be a problem, just, ah, you know, just in case.” Your throat closed up, embarrassment at even saying anything crushing your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Thanks for telling me, I appreciate it.” Dieter patted your thigh and his smile was a little more tender than before. 

God, he really looked good underneath you.

“My skin’s sensitive too, scratches show up really clearly on it and it pisses off the cinematographer. So that’s the only thing we’ll have to watch out for there.” The shuffle of changing positions interrupts your conversation until you’re on your stomach with him pressed against your back.

“Sorry if I pop one too, it’s kind of par for the course with these. I’m good at keeping it under control for the most part.” You giggle into the pillow as he hovers over you. 

“My biggest advice?” Dieter murmurs, mouth close to your ear. You hum into the pillow. “Let yourself have fun. It’s not gonna feel natural, but that doesn’t mean it’s gotta feel cold. You won’t offend me if you go off script. I might too, if it feels right. If we’re having fun, the audience will too.”

The weight of his body bearing down on you drives any more anxieties out of your blissed-out brain.

The day of the sex scene comes quicker than you’d like, and the tender crush you’d been nursing for Dieter has become a panicked bird inside your ribcage. You’d spent the hours before preparing, mentally and physically with an indulgent morning routine, but nothing can stop your nerves when Dieter catches sight of you and gives a little wave. He’s in jeans and a black button-up, hair being artfully styled but sunglasses still on. One knee bounces in the chair but otherwise he looks cool as a cucumber. 

The sliver of golden chest you peep through the neck of his shirt sends you scurrying to your dressing room.

Everything leading up to the moment you step on set is distraction. Chatting with makeup, hair, props, with the fucking boom operator who looks just as confused as you are that you’re asking about good places to eat in the area. You talk with the intimacy coordinator, who gives you final notes on the scene. (“If Dieter makes you uncomfortable at all you give me The Eyes and I’ll correct him. No questions asked. I’ve worked with him for years, and I will cuss him out to his face.”) Eventually there’s no one left, and you’re standing alone clutching a water bottle to your chest when Dieter sidles up.

“Nervous?”

You almost jump out of your bathrobe. Which would suck because all you had on was a dark lace lingerie set, pair of pasties and the strange modesty patch protecting your lady bits. Sometimes seeing the behind-the-scenes really did erase the movie magic.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s a little more real now than the rehearsal,” you sigh, and Dieter’s bray of a laugh actually calms you. He puts a hand on your back and rubs firm, soothing circles that bring your heart back into an acceptable rhythm.

“You’ll do fine. And I’ve done this…eh, probably more times than it’s polite to mention. You’re in good hands.” He pulls off his sunglasses, treating you to rich brown eyes you could lose yourself in if you weren’t a professional, goddammit. 

“Close the set, please!” Ramona calls out, and the nonessential crew files out until it’s just you and Dieter and about eight other people who will be watching you writhe and moan. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out loudly, you shake your limbs and metaphorically gird your loins (since they already are pretty girded).

“Can I have actors on set please?” You stride up to the bed with as much confidence as you can muster, Dieter strolling up behind you. Now that he’s close he smells like fresh cotton and spice, a sharp shift from the earthier scents you’d been experiencing. Even a hint of mint from his breath, suddenly thankful you’d brushed and mouthwashed twice. 

“Positions for Scene 17.”

Yes, the first shot. Dieter would be hovering over you, kissing you as he pulls his shirt off. You would be in your bra and panties, slivers of your body visible in the frame but Dieter’s broad chest and unbuttoned waistband on display. Sliding the bathrobe off and placing it off camera, you arrange your limbs on the bed, hands shaking just a little now. Dieter stands at the foot, and if you weren’t about to simulate sex you’d swear he was devouring you with his heavy gaze.

Just getting into character. Breathe.

“Roll sound.”

“Speed.”

“Scene 17a, take one. Roll camera.”

“Rolling.”

“...Action.”

As the set drops to silence, you watch Dieter change from the slightly aloof but sympathetic actor to a brooding morally gray detective needing to bury his failures in a soft body. Despite your coaching, your eyes widen at the set of his jaw, how dark his eyes become when he wrenches off the offending button-up. He sinks to his knees between your thighs and hovers over you, hands pushed into the mattress on either side of your head. 

“Be good for me, yeah?” he husks, deeper and full of gravel. You nod, and he descends to crush your lips together. He urges your mouth open and works your lips together, but his tongue stays obediently behind his teeth. 

Fuck, for a second you forgot you were acting.

His hips dip, denim scraping along the inside of your thighs. He parts from your mouth with a gasp, forehead coming down to press against yours. He takes a deep breath, then…

“Cut! Reset.”

You blink slowly, Dieter already lifting back up to stand at the foot of the bed, rebuttoning his shirt. 

“Any notes?” he asks, voice so calm and clear you snap back to the reality of the situation. 

“When you’re kissing, pull her thighs up around you,” Adam says, Dieter’s head swiveling back.

“That all right by you?” he asks, smoothing the shirt on his skin. 

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely,” you answer, trying not to croak out the words. It was just the first take, it’s fine that you’re a little off-kilter. It would be easier by the second one.

It was not. Not by the third either, still swimming in the heady arousal that wafts from Dieter’s commanding presence. The director complimented how you clutched at his shoulders when he squeezed your thighs, which you tried to pass off as purposeful rather than hanging on for dear life. You were doomed, you’d bitten off more than you could chew and you were going to mess up this role and had no idea how to stop it.

Three more scenes to go.

You take a lap as they reposition the cameras, flip-flops slapping against the concrete floors of the soundstage as you debate if you have enough time to rub one out before going back, just to take the edge off.

“Actors back on set!”

Dammit.

Scene 18 has you riding Dieter, his hands guiding you until he bares his teeth (your signal to move with him) and rolls you on your back to pound you into the mattress. The lingerie is gone now, the cool air of the soundstage caressing over curves of your body that most people rarely see. Dieter averts his eyes when you disrobe, and carefully arranges himself below you. You’re feeling more centered, straddling Dieter with a little less fire burning between your legs, but your troubles take a sharp turn.

“Lean forward a little more, you’re half out of the shot.”

“A little faster.”

“Put your hand on his stomach about ten seconds in.”

“Never mind, back to how we had it before.”

“No, we said no hand, remember?”

“Do you need a break?”

Your body shakes after take 6, half from the exhaustion of lifting up on your knees over and over, your toes starting to go numb, and half with anxiety over forgetting another cue, or missing another note. The smile you keep shooting the director is getting strained, and mortifying tears start to prick your eyes. Dieter is watching your face closely, and with a pointed look at Ramona she calls a brief break. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, guiding you off his lap to sit on the edge of the bed. You cross your arms over your chest, and he reaches over to give you your robe. Draping his own over his lap, he strokes that soothing pattern of circles over your back as you shake your head.

“Sorry, it felt so easy in rehearsal, I’m having like, a weird lockup right now,” you stammer out.

“It’s okay,” he says, “I know what it is.” You look up at him with more desperation in your eyes than you mean. He nods sympathetically.

“It’s the cock sock, isn’t it?” 

He delivers the line completely deadpan. The shock of the phrase, plus the serious set of his brow, makes hysterical laughter burst from your lips. You bury your face in your hands and shake as Dieter’s deep chuckles tickle into your ear.

“That’s better, just need to get a little of that tension out,” he soothes, meeting your eyes with a charming smile. If only this could be a real moment, not something looked on by several men and women drinking coffees. Dieter seems like the kind of partner who would always make you comfortable, and seen, and absolutely satisfied.

That last thought tingles the baby hairs on the back of your neck as you move back into position. Straddling Dieter once again, the ridiculous genital covering out of sight, he grips your shoulders.

“Okay, let’s get back into character here, yeah? Remember your motivation?”

You nod. Not that the scene really needed a deep backstory, but you’d decided you were blowing off steam after a rough few days at work and an ex texting you to get back together. Dieter was mysterious, exciting, so different from your past boyfriends, and when he met your eyes across the room all you wanted was for him to wash the bad taste of their memories out. 

“Got it? Good. Here’s mine,” he says, leaning up while the last few preparations finish around you. Lips to your ear, he whispers only for you. 

“Another dead end, another long day, and I want something to distract me. I’ve got my eye on my usual type, but then I see you. You stand out in the crowd, bold, confident. You hold my stare, challenge me. I thought I wanted something easy, something mindless, but looking at you, I changed my mind. I wanted something with substance, someone to give as good as she gets, and I know you’ll give me even better. My cock got hard just looking at you, you’re fucking perfect. And then when you let me buy you a drink and you criticized my whiskey choice, I wanted to bend you over the bar right there. So I’m taking you home to bury my troubles, but you can surprise me as many more times as you like. I like to be surprised. I want you to take me as much as I’m taking you.”

Dieter lies back with a hell of a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Action!”

Your body moves with an ease that had been eluding you, liquid rolls as you take your time riding him. His hands come up to your hips, urging you faster, and instead you grind down on him, pressing your hands into his chest and pinning him into the bed. You’re not supposed to be fighting him, but it feels so right to arch and rock harder into him. His bare legs flex against your ass, meeting your hips with his thrusts. You can imagine how good he’d feel if you weren’t faking this, how his powerful thrusts would hit your g-spot. His hand cups the back of your neck, teeth bared in warning as he rolls you onto your back. 

“You’re so sexy,” he growls in your ear, hooking your legs around his waist and smacking his hips into yours. The impact is softer than it looks, aided by your moans and writhing beneath him. He goes for a handful more thrusts before “Cut!” is shouted again.

“There we go! I like the improv, can we do just one more for coverage?” Ramona says, giving you an approving smile when you immediately get into position. 

“I could go all night,” Dieter shoots back, earning an eye roll from half the crew and a dry mouth from you when he flicks his gaze back and winks. 

The second take flows even better, your bodies finally speaking to each other. Dieter palms your ass, you slow your hips. He urges you to go faster, you grind down on him. He grits his teeth as you push his chest, nails just about to bite into the supple flesh. His eyes capture yours over and over, and the hunger inside them is some damn good acting. 

The cues, the flip, and you’re on your back again, but this time Dieter drops his head to cover your breast with his hot mouth. You arch, a strangled gasp as you wait for his tongue, his teeth, but he works his jaw against the flesh and nothing more.

Fuck, you want something more.

When he pops his mouth off he resumes the script, thrusting frantically into you but with more force this time, even an edge of desperation. You meet his energy, throwing your head back and letting him yank you against him over and over. The slap, the friction, this gorgeous man before you all makes slick weep from your untouched cunt, clit aching for the act you’re simulating.

“Cut! Excellent, really good work guys, you’re hitting your groove here. Let’s move on to 19.”

Dieter stays above you for a few seconds more, your chests heaving. The lust bleeds away to a soft smile as he pats your side.

“Good work, you take direction really well.”

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying, “Just from you.”

You take one more walk around the soundstage to try and calm your rebellious body, but the moment you see Dieter again, kneeling in the bed with the blankets bunched in front of his hips, it’s all dashed away. Even his respectful touches as he guides you to your stomach, checking in if you’re comfortable, all burn across your skin. You just need to get through this scene.

“Action!”

This is indeed the finale. Dieter would finish above you, pounding into you from behind. You were supposed to lie there and take it, let him cuss and choke into the back of your shoulder before his breathing slows and you cut to the next morning. You could do that. You totally could. Most men you’ve been with hump you into the bed like this and it does very little for you. This would be fine.

The moment Dieter starts rutting against your ass you know you’re done for. You’re too worked up, and the position lightly teases your nipples. A wrinkle of blanket rubs against your mound just enough to relieve your clit, and while you know you should stop you can’t help but grind into the bed just enough to light up your nerves. Dieter hovers above you, thick forearms planted by your shoulders as he hisses and grunts his way to a fake climax. You press back against him, giving your own satisfied smile as he drops his forehead between your shoulders and rolls his hips again. 

“Not bad, can we go one more time?”

Shit. You’d hoped that would be enough, arousal rising dangerously between your thighs. Rearranging the sheets to deny you pleasure, you catch Dieter slumping to one side and watching you. It’s intense, being in his stare, but also warming and protective. When you lie back on your stomach and give him a nod that you’re ready, he leans down and whispers in your ear.

“If you want it, you can have it. I won’t tell anyone. You take it when it comes.”

You barely get a moment of shock before the cameras are rolling and the scene begins again. Did Dieter just…insinuate that he’d cover for you if you came? The thought makes wetness gush between your thighs, now lacking the friction you were relishing in earlier. The need aching in your cunt makes you roll your hips back against Dieter, a strained “fuck” spitting through his teeth. He grabs your hips and guides you against his narrow ones, not quite hitting where you want but the snap and slap of him against you still works you up more than it should. You cry out, bury your face in the pillow, fist the blankets as he chases his release. The practiced groan signals the end, this time his cheek pressing against your back and a kiss dotting your spine. 

Thank God. You were finally in the clear.

“I think we need one more, guys. I want a little more…intimacy this time. You both okay with that?”

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

“I don’t…” you started to protest until Dieter’s hand finds its way to the back of your neck.

“I think you can do it. I know you can. One more time?” he asks, but in his eyes is a promise that makes you nod, even against your better judgment.

This time I’ll make you cum.

Dieter changes tactics when the cameras roll. He starts off fast, yanking you back against him. Sitting up on his heels he arches you off the bed with his expansive hands. His thighs cage you in, squeezing tight. Something thick and soft slides against your ass, and you realize Dieter is hard behind you, cock still wrapped up but the weight of it against you obvious. You want him between your legs, fat head sliding over your clit, but you let him adjust you to exactly where he wants. 

With Dieter’s guidance you rock and writhe against him, drips of praise reaching your ears. With a deeply groaned, “Fuck, baby,” he folds over you, stomach pressing into your back. His fingers lace with your own, hugging you to his chest as he pumps his hips in long strokes. His cock nudges your lower back, little gasps keening out. He noses your cheek and guides you to turn your face to the camera. 

“This okay?” he mouths into your ear and you let out a, “Yes, please,” loud enough to mean anything for the camera. You slide a hand into his hair, gripping the thick curls to a stuttered sigh of pleasure. The pressure and motion finally gives you the stimulation you need, and it’s barely any time before your orgasm barrels to the forefront. You tighten your grip on Dieter’s large hand and school your face just enough to not look like you’re cumming through the hottest scene you will ever act in.

“That’s it, take it, take it baby, you’re doing so well, fucking god, look at you,” Dieter groans into your ear. He presses you deeper into the mattress, muting the uncontrollable bucking of your hips for the camera. Teeth scrape along your jaw in tender nips as he stutters to his fake finish, a guttural groan and relaxing of his body signaling the end of the scene. But Dieter lifts up on one elbow and pinches your chin between two fingers, turning your face to his. He looks at you like a mystery to be solved, like a gift, and then kisses you, slow and indulgent.

“Cut! Excellent, loved the ad libbing Dee, but you gotta stop saying fuck, we’ll have to cut that out,” the director says. Dieter laughs against your back, and the warmth of his skin makes you want to melt into the bed and never leave. 

“You doing okay?” he asks, lifting up off you and tugging both your bathrobes over to give you some modesty. He fists his own over his swollen erection, a little pink high in his cheeks and sweat along his hairline.

“Yeah, perfect, absolutely,” you say lightly, legs wobbling when you try to stand up. His eyes drag over you, a prideful smile playing on his lips as you try to cover up your dazed affect. “One more scene?” you say brightly.

“Yeah,” he says, distracted. “One more scene.”

The final shot of your day is the following morning, soft yellow light traded for the cool blue of daylight streaming in. You’re facing away from the camera, Dieter waking and looking over at your naked shoulder. He sits up and strokes along the curve of your waist, making you sigh in your sleep. He watches you with a mix of regret and resolution, kisses your shoulder, and gets out of bed.

The scene is done in one take. You wish it took all day.

The end of the shoot is quiet, taking off makeup and getting back into your public clothes. You strain to hear someone coming to your dressing room, a certain wild-haired brown-eyed man giving you a sendoff. A kind word, a piece of advice, you’d take anything. But he doesn’t come, and you leave the soundstage with your check and thanks and promises of references. 

The drive back to your apartment is quiet, music even feeling too loud for the moment. Weaving through LA traffic, the moments of your day slip through your mind like silk ribbons.

You suppose this is what meeting your heroes is like. A moment in the sunlight of their presence, then back to the real world of auditions and day jobs and hoping your parents never see this particular part of your portfolio. The dishes need washing, calls need to be made, and you have to go on with your life. It was an excellent experience, albeit a slightly inappropriate one. But if that’s the worst you got up to with Dieter then it was fairly tame.

The fleeting thought of what you’d actually hoped you’d get up to with Dieter comes and leaves without incident. 

By the time you get home you’re planning what casting call you’d go to tomorrow, making your grocery list, and considering if you can get away without doing laundry tonight. Which is why you walk past the bouquet of flowers in the atrium without checking who it’s for. Waiting for the elevator, however, curiosity gets the better of you and you peek at the card.

Your name. It’s your name on the perfectly imperfect bouquet of garden roses and eucalyptus. You’re opening the card as your cell phone vibrates in your pocket. Fishing it out, you greet the Midnight Alley casting agent on the other end.

“Are you open to a semi-recurring role?” 

“W-what?”

“Yeah, the director and AD were really impressed with your chemistry with Bravo. They’ve been trying to write him a love interest in the show, but he’s turned down all the potential actresses and guest stars. No chemistry, bad chemistry, whatever, but the point is he asked for them to consider you.”

Your hands shake, the clean white card pinched between your fingers.

I think we can do better together than that. Dinner?

-DB

“What do you think?”

Your heart flutters as you set it free.

“When can I start?”

END

[comicarc]

𝐈 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈)

previous • next

"A lonely moon craving for the radiant sun." In which a certain girl catches the attention of a prideful billionaire playboy as they both attempt to find their way in the world. (I haven't seen many fics explore Bruce in his formative years, so I thought I'd share my take on them, of course with romance.)

wc: 1964

“Finally, I’ve found you, little angel,” Selina enthused as she stared down at y/n’s sleeping figure. Exiting the large opening of the room’s extravagant windows, Selina circled the bed to be at y/n’s side. She stared at the comatose girl, with her head buried in a pillow, hair in disarray, and a little drool dripping from the side of her mouth. Brushing hair from the side of y/n’s face, Selina saw the light bruising that littered her forehead and a cut adorning her cheek. 

Worry began to plague Selina as she wondered what y/n had been up to after they were separated, but she had no time to process her thoughts as she heard the door unlatch. Seating herself at the end of the bed near y/n’s feet, Selina’s face was decorated with her signature grin as she announced, “Bruce Wayne, what do I owe for the pleasure of your company?” 

Sarcasm dripping from her every word, Bruce ignored her as he interrogated, “Ms. Kyle, how did you get in?”

“A magician never reveals her secrets, y’know.” Selina stood from her seat, positioning herself in front of y/n to protect her from an approaching Bruce. “No need to be formal with me, I thought we were already familiar seeing as you were comfortable enough to kidnap y/n.” Selina’s tongue was as sharp as a sword and she aimed to insult Bruce for having wounded her best friend.

“I didn’t kidnap her,” Bruce stated as if it was enough explanation for y/n’s current state.

“Give me a real answer pretty boy and maybe I might spare you.”

Bruce, having enough of games, finally revealed, “She’s been me with something. She got hurt and I’ve been helping her recuperate, that’s all.”

Skepticism was painted across Selina’s features, and being as keen as she was, Selina knew that he was only telling her half of the truth. In her last attempt to get him to confess, the girl threatened, “If you don’t tell me, you won’t ever see her again. I’ll make sure–”

Interrupting her, the boy sighed, recanting his half-truth by conceding, “Fine, it’s not like you can hurt the case anyway. y/n was helping me take down Falcone’s drug operation. She was just doing her last run for him in Crime Alley when she got caught in an explosion.”

“y/n’s working for Falcone?” Selina whipped her head around to look at the sleeping figure once again. How could she not have noticed? The girl’s once hopeful eyes were resting on dark circles, the corners of which reddened from tears. Wrinkles faintly announced their presence at the edge of her mouth and her forehead. Her lips were cracked like the tar of Gotham’s roads and her nose was redder than a fire truck. Though fatigue had left a visible mark on her body, Selina could hoped that the girl’s mind was in better condition. With the ghouls of her past haunting her and the demons of the present leading her to the gates of a living hell, y/n must have yearned for solace in the comfort of sleep.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to her, do you?” Selina asserted, looking to Bruce with an incomparable disdain. 

Puzzled, he questioned, “What are you talking about?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Don’t pretend you’re some weak, pathetic little girl when I can see that vicious mind working behind your eyes.” The towering woman scorned at the little girl, lacing each word with venom as she persisted, “y/n, an insolent monster like you doesn’t deserve a mother as forgiving as me.”

y/n studied her mother’s face, too blurry for her to discern any distinct features. Her voice, though sharp, held a familiar warmth to it. y/n craved to hear it again, despite the words it spewed. She opened her mouth to elicit more words from the woman before her, but nothing came out. 

“Falcone was right, staying with something like you is only going to keep me down,” she began to laugh, almost hysterically as she came to a realization. “I’ll take the Arkham job. If not for myself, then at least be rid of you.” 

Reduced to the body of a child, y/n’s stubby hands attempted to reach for her mother’s. She wanted to stop her from leaving. She wanted to show her that she wasn’t a monster. She wanted to beg for affection. But as her finger touched her mother’s hand, the figure faded from sight. 

“Dr. Crane, what’s the verdict?” A gruff voice spoke from beside her. Whipping her head, y/n observed two men seated at a worn wooden table across from each other.

“I’m sorry, sir.” The other man spoke, his face as blurry as her mother’s. y/n rushed to them, her feet feeling heavier than concrete. Each step had her heaving, and by the time she reached the man, all that was left of the scene was ash. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Approaching the burned building where y/n had ran from the previous night, Selina motioned for Bruce to stop. They were a few meters from the building and at the entrance of Crime Alley. 

Bruce shivered, from both fear and the breeze that swept between them. He wanted to leave, to run as far as he could, but his dread was trumped by his curiosity. Selina knew something and information was an important currency in Gotham. A figure approached Selina from behind. Tapping her shoulder, the blond-haired man questioned, “Why’d you call me here?” 

She moved aside, making room for him to stand beside Bruce. The motion went ignored by the man, Harvey, who pressed, “What’s he doing here?”

Reciprocating Harvey’s mannerisms, Selina chose to ignore his questions and began, “You both seem to have feelings for y/n, or at least, some stake in her well-being. Now I have no obligation to say anything, but I think I need to, for her sake.”

She turned and pointed toward a part of the building reduced to rubble. What remained of a windowsill was scorched with burn marks and round it lay a caved in bricks. Not only did it emit a foul odor, but the destroyed apartment looked disgusting. “Did you know y/n lived here?”

Both men froze, mouths left ajar for they were too stunned by the revelation to speak. Harvey knew y/n was by no means wealthy, but for her to live in such decrepit conditions was insane. How was she able to survive high society in Gotham and come back to this without a single complaint? How could he not have known? How could he not have helped her?

Bruce regained his voice first. “What’s your point.” 

“You don’t know anything about her, so don’t pretend you do. I’m sure you’re aware of how extravagant your lifestyles are, so how about you do her a favor and leave? She doesn’t need false hope or someone holding her from her potential. y/n doesn't need a tether to Gotham, so let her fly.”

“That’s all?” Harvey spoke, his eyebrow quirked up. “You think we want to hurt her?” 

“I think you’re doing it without even realizing it. y/n wasn’t a bedridden mess until she got involved with Bruce.” Selina snapped. “I’m worried she’ll be left with nothing when your little infatuations ends.”

“What the hell are you talking about,” Bruce’s blood began to boil from the accusation. Though he felt guilt for being the reason she got hurt, he didn’t want to accept it. 

Selina sighed, reasoning, “Bruce, you’ll forget about her when you go to Yale. And Harvey, I’m sorry to break the news but y/n’s not going to Harvard. Her scholarship got rescinded, so–”

Harvey interrupted, “That’s not possible, we were talking about it just yesterday.”

“The call came today. She put my number as an emergency in case they couldn’t reach her and well…”

The realization of the stark difference between their lives hit Bruce like a train. His parents had taught him the value of money, that it wasn’t a possession meant to be recklessly spent. But even if did do that, there was no consequence, always a safety net. He couldn’t imagine a life without one, a life without a second chance. It wasn’t until this that he understood how unstable life could be. 

Guilt had eaten at him since he was eight years old, crying in the middle of the night because he believed that his impatience had killed his parents. And even now, it ate into his heart, because he believed y/n was in that state because of him. If only he made her life easier at the Academy, if only he didn’t involve her in his scheme, if only he could have carried out his promise of keeping her safe. He didn’t fear responsibility, he feared loss, pain. 

Selina and Harvey were still bickering when Bruce exited the realm of his thoughts. He looked around and took in his surroundings for the first time. In the daylight, Crime Alley looked pathetic more than terrifying. Waste littered the walls adorned with scattered blood. The drain was clamorous as water poured into it, dripping from the cracks in the buildings surrounding them. 

No one here wanted to hurt others, they thought they needed to. If he put Falcone away, then another would take his place. The cycle would never end, and Gotham would remain broken. Someone needed to do something, and whoever did it needed to be the worst of the worst. 

Fear is a strong emotion, and if it's been this effective for all these crime lords, then why not the hero? Why doesn’t someone use the fear for good? Terrify the evil out of these pathetic criminals and give them a chance to see past their perspective. To help them understand what y/n did: that even the most miserable people in the world can have a chance at righteous happiness if they try. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

y/n awoke panting. Her head spun from the dream she was having, but after a few minutes, she could think clearly again. Alone in the familiar bedroom, y/n moved to get up. Though at first her legs felt as though they had gone numb, she was able to bring them to life and move to the door. She proceeded to turn the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. She tested it again, and the door remained secure. Bruce locked her in.

Her next thought was to call him & make him open the door for her. She searched the room until she finally found it. Brushing away the dust with the sleeve of her jacket, y/n’s phone lit up. The only thing on the screen was an email notification. The headline read: Scholarship RESCINDED. She couldn’t believe what she was reading, so she looked down at the sender. It was official. Wilcox followed through, much to y/n’s chagrin. 

So much pain, so much suffering through all these years, and the best she got was a one-way ticket to staying in hell. Did she fool herself into believing a non-existent hope? Was it all for nothing? No. Circumstances change, but y/n didn’t. She steeled her mind for she knew she achieve success one way or another. She’ll go to Gotham University, secure a high paying job and live her dream. Even if it wasn’t possible now, she was willing to fight till she got it. Giving up was the easiest thing she could, and she wasn’t a quitter. 

But she needed closure. Something to end this chapter of her life and for her to feel as though she was truly moving forward. And for that she had to confront her past. She had to confront the pain she refused to feel. She had to confront the memories she had been suppressing for the last decade. She had to confront Dr. Crane.

˖ ࣪🦇𓆰♡𓆪🦇ִ ࣪⋆

taglist: @earth-to-name

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

taking a bit further in the decades,(bc playboy bunny girls were officially a thing in the 50s) lets say Hashira! reader got a job as a casino bunny girl, mainly to spy to see if there are demons is in there. She doesn't know the demon king dropped by (It draws a LOT of humans in.), and was called in to... entertain him. (Lap dance, some intimacy as well, jdkndmfndmkd) both can't ignore that they think the other is very attractive and make out, too? tysm!!

(Hello, I’m glad to see another request from you again. I’ve never been in a casino before so hopefully I didn’t mess anything up and if I did then I apologize. I hope you enjoy this!)

May I Touch?

Muzan Kibutsuji x FEM! Hashira! Reader

(Warning: Swearing, Sanemi is your best friend, lap dancing, making out)

About the casino the reader applied to: This casino allows you to play games, gamble, etc. Also there is a private room for people that pay extra to get one-on-one time with a bunny girl, for example lap dances and some intimacy.

..

As a Demon Slayer you had to do a lot of things to slay demons. You had to bear through tough and excruciating training, lose people you deeply care about, and sometimes even spy on places to try and locate the demon.

This current mission you have is one of those spying ones. The problem is..

“Oh my god can you believe this shit, look at what they’re making me wear!” You say holding up the outfit to show your best friend Sanemi.

“Stop being a pussy and just change into the damn thing and go to that casino place before you’re late.” Sanemi said as he turned his attention away from you to continue his training.

“Fine fine I was leaving anyways.” You said with a huff before making your way to the casino you got hired at. You decided that you were going to change into the outfit when you got there so that you didn’t have to travel wearing that outfit.

You arrived there with your outfit balled up in your hand, looking up at the night sky you breathe in and out, silently telling yourself that it is going to be okay before going inside.

You go to the managers office and knock on the door and waited until you heard the muffled words of “Come on in.”

“Ah you’re here, unfortunately the person that was gonna show you what to do called out last minute and the others are busy entertaining the customers so I guess I’ll have to show you around.” He takes a drag of his cigar before speaking once more, “Go ahead and change in the changing rooms I’ll wait for you nearby.”

You nodded your head, walking out of the office and go to the changing rooms. Putting on the revealing outfit, you smooth out all the wrinkles and came out. You looked around and found the manager, he began to show you everything and told you about the rules and regulations. One thing that was strange to you was a private room that was designed for people that want one-on-one time with the bunny girl.

Since you came here on a mission you hope that you’re not the one getting called in the room.

Oh boy did you just jinxed yourself.

A little while went by and the manager went back to his office. You were doing your job until you heard one of your coworkers say “Hey new girl, come here we have a customer in the private room waiting for you!”

“Ugh why me.” You thought to yourself while walking over to the room.

As you got closer and closer your heart pounded as you sensed a extremely powerful demon, you thought to yourself that it had to be a Upper Moon. To your surprise when you opened the door and walked in you saw a pale man with red eyes, you could still tell that it was a powerful demon but there’s no use in fighting sense you didn’t have your blade on you.

The man seemed to be very relaxed so that relieved some of your nerves a little, you were hoping that the demon didn’t notice that you were a Hashira.

Leaning on the back of the red chair with his hands in his lap, he lifted his hands to signal you to come over. You closed the door behind you and walked over to him. As you got closer you noticed a red tint to his cheeks something you didn’t notice before.

“Oh my I got lucky today, I got ahold of a gorgeous one. How about you come closer and give me a dance.” He said patting his lap, you knew exactly what he wanted. A lap dance.

You came closer to him a visibly nervous expression was shown on your face. Muzan took a mental note of that, noting that he was gonna take his time with you tonight.

Muzan could sense that you were a Hashira but he didn’t care at the moment. All he wanted to do was have some fun with his new plaything.

As you begin to give him a lap dance you hear him hum in enjoyment, making your cheeks heat up. You honestly didn’t know what you were doing you’ve never given someone a lap dance before.

Your thoughts stop and you stop dancing, blushing harder, as you heard the man raspy voice say “May I touch?”

Unable to control your body you turned to him, before mumbling a quiet “Sure.” He smirked at that as he grabbed your hips and straddled you on his lap.

“Don’t worry we’ll take this slow.” He said against your lips before making contact with them.

As he was passionately kissing you, you could tell that this man had some experience and that turned you on, maybe because since he has some experience he could make you scream with pleasure without any difficulty.

He licked your lower lip, seemly asking for permission to explore your mouth. You allowed access and moaned when you felt his strong hands grabbing your ass and making you slowly grind on his lap.

You felt something hard under you, and that’s when you thought to yourself that tonight was gonna be a long one.

Masterlist

[potassiumivy]

PLAYBOY. | jjk

❥ mdni. fic masterlist.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 011: STAR MODEL.

✞ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘✞

MEGUMI'S EYES SNAPPED OPEN the moment he heard your scream pierce the serene atmosphere of an usual sunday morning.

slapping his face two times and pinching his cheeks to shake his sleepiness off, he slammed his door open just in time to see you stop right in front it. 

you harshly grabbed his shoulder, shaking him from side to side. "G'MORNING, MEGGY!" you yelled in a pink megaphone, making him cringe from the loud noise. he was melting in embarrassment from the nickname, and he prayed to every god that his classmates didn't hear it. "YUUTA IS COMING BACK!" 

"okkotsu-"

"YES!" you answered through the megaphone although your bodies were only a few inches apart.

shaking him again and standing on your tippy toes, you rubbed your face against his affectionately. "oh, megumi! i could almost cry from how happy i am! don't you see my tears?"

"mhm-"

"can you feel how fast my heart beats??" you pushed his hand in your cleavage. "can you?"

he cleared his throat, trying to muster up an answer. i'm feeling ecstatic! did i use that word right, megs?"

kissing his cheek, you left him standing there as you skipped down the hallway, banging on every door you came across. "YUUTA IS COMING BACK! I REPEAT, YUUTA IS BACK!" your voice echoed through the dorms.

he turned his around to see yuuji coming out of his dorm, running his fingers through his pink hair to tame his bed-head, popping a mint gum in his mouth and spraying his cologne everywhere around before passing right under it.

it was clear as day that the idiot was trying to impress you. 

"good morning, neighbour!" he grinned at his classmate."it's a lovely morning we're having, aren't we?"

inhaling loudly in frustration, megumi accidentally breathed in some of yuuji's cologne residues, making him gag.

the other boy gasped in concern. "fushiguro! are you alright?"

trying to reassure his friend, he opened his mouth to respond, but he choked on his saliva, coughing even more. 

"HOLD ON FUSHIGURO! I GOT MY FIRST AID CERTIFICATE IN MIDDLE SCHOOL!" he panicked, running behind megumi to perform the heimlich maneuver.

megumi's eyes widened in mortification, trying to escape his classmate's monster grip. he looked like a cat running away from water as he dragged his nails through yuuji's arms.

"don't fight it! we're gonna go through this together!"

gojo and nobara both chose that moment to come out of their rooms, seeing yuuji aggressively humping megumi. 

"one day of peace." nobara huffed, "that's all i'm asking for. at this rate, i'll get wrinkles in a few years."

"oh, but you already have one" gojo pointed nobara's forehead, making her eye twitch in anger. 

"it's right... here! boop! hehe" he chuckled to himself as she lost it, jumping on her teacher.

"wrinkles, huh? i'll show you wrinkles, grandpa!"

"no- NOBARA! NOT MY SCRUMPTIOUS HAIR-"

ignoring the chaos around you, you continued running towards a specific door, lightly knocking on it. patiently waiting, you see the door open, but the figure you were expecting didn't appear. 

there was actually nothing at the door. blinking a couple of time, you rubbed your eyes, thinking that you were still a little out of it.

"miss y/n! down here!" a child's voice called out.

following the voice's instruction, your eyes fell on nanako and mimiko, geto's adopted twins. "oh my! hello!" you said in your megaphone, making them giggle as they hugged your waist. 

they were only 6, and it hasn't been too long since your teacher took them in, but you'd still give them the whole world if they asked you to.

since maki wasn't too kin on having girl days with you, you took the twins out instead. that made your bond grow stronger.

throwing the pink object aside, you picked them up in your arms. "wow, you two sure grew up while i was gone!" 

nanako nodded with a little smile. "yep! we ate our vegetables so we got stronger!" she flexed her arm. mimiko only played with your hair, shoving her head in the crook of your neck. she was on the shy side. 

"i see that you already surprised them." you heard geto's voice. putting the twins back down, you kissed their head before looking at your teacher. 

you smiled softly, greeting him. "i was looking for you."

just like you, he was also ignoring the chaos unfolding behind him. "were you?"

"yes. yuuta is coming back."

"i know."

"oh? was i too loud?" you asked, your glassy doe eyes looking straight at him.

"no." he chuckled, "i was the one who told you."

"right, right!" you laughed sheepishly.

swallowing hard, geto finally gathered the courage to ask you something he wanted to ask a long time ago.

"hey," he called out softly, "i was wondering if—"

gojo who finally got rid of nobara by running around the school grounds, came back just in time to hear his friend's speech. he knew he was going to ask you out. 

he was supposed to be happy, so why was there a slight pinch in his chest? he ignored it, turning back om his heels as he was retreating to his room, but he involuntarily looked at the scene from the corner of his eyes.

he swore he didn't want to— that he didn't mean to—but as his eyes roamed your body language and your facial expressions, he wished they were all for him. and as his eyes roamed your figure, the sunlight poked through the window, illuminating your figure like you were a cup of gold on display. 

it also put an emphasis on your necklace, the one you...

you had a new necklace.

gojo took his blindfold off, looking intensely at you from afar. 

no trace of the pearl necklace.

the same necklace who started it all.

he didn't know what came over him, but the pinch in his heart grew and grew until he couldn't take it anymore, and before he realized, he was between you and his best friend. 

"...satoru?" he heard geto's voice, but it felt like he was underwater. he had interrupted suguru's speech as he just stood there, panting, his blue eyes refusing to leave the sight of the golden necklace.

his eyes met yours, and you didn't even have the time to question the scratches on his face as he pulled your wrist almost robotically.

"i just need to borrow her for a few seconds, suguru."

*✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:

✞ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘✞

*✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:

gojo was panting as he jogged around the school, racing to find an empty room.

"...jo? gojo? gojo!" your voice made him snap out of his trance, as he looked at you from the corner of his eyes.

"you're hurting me" you whimpered and he could feel his heart wavering. 

"sorry." he loosened his hold on your wrist. he brought it to his face, pressing a light kiss to it. 

your breath hitched from his unusual behaviour. seeing his uncovered eyes was unsettling enough, but the whole atmosphere was tense between you two. 

he hastily unlocked his office, pushing you inside. your back hit his desk, and he hovered over you, his strong arms caging you. 

you both remained silent for a few minutes, and only panting could be heard.

he pushed himself closer to you, one of his hands tugging on your necklace, bringing your face close to his.

"your necklace."

"what about it?" you breathed out.

"the one with the pretty pearls. the one you bought with my money. where is it?"

"it's in my room."

"i meant," he lowered his voice, "why aren't you wearing it?"

tears gathered on your water line, you were beyond scared and confused.

"who gave you this necklace?" he asked further.

you just couldn't answer.

"hakari? naoya?" you shook your head as a response, swallowing back your tears.

"then who?" his tone was calm, but it was scarier than anything.

"my manager." you choked out. "he bought it for me."

"the one who signed you up for the playboy thing?"

"yes, him."

"give me his name."

your shoulders were shaking by now.

"y/n, please."

"shiu..." you sobbed.

"shiu? as in shiu kong?"

"mhm."

he let go of your necklace, chuckling slightly.

"shiu, huh?"

he pressed his forehead against yours,

"you think he'd let me borrow his star model for a couple of minutes?"

✞ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘✞

next!!

©potassiumivy, 2024. all rights reserved. do not translate / modify / republish my works.

taglist: @sad-darksoul

[sunflowerrosewood]

Burns ~ Tony Stark

Author's Note: Since my other account @cheekyredwillow got deleted. I am adding some of my favorite fanfictions to this account and revamping this one with new ones. I hope to make an actual list of fandoms I am still a fan of! NO requests for the time being.

On to the one shot! This is a plus size reader and a soulmate prompt where you have similar markings as your soulmate.

Ever since you turned 25 years old, you noticed burns and bruises form down your arms. You weren’t noticing these earlier but you must have recently got these with your soulmate. For a long time, you believed you did not have a soulmate. Now he or she has finally showed up.

You were so surprised but why did you have to get their burns. It hurts so much every day. It’s like working in a factory with heat. But you know your soulmate is not very happy about you. I mean who would like cellulite marks on their bodies and wrinkle marks where fat is. Stretch marks on top of it. It is disgusting.

What you did not know is Tony Stark, the playboy, billionaire, philanthropist was your soulmate. Ever since Pepper left as his secretary, he had to find someone who could fill that space. He knew his soulmate was somewhere because he started to see stretch marks where he had not used to see. While his mindset on women is the skinny broads, he realized that he would not mind someone on the thicker side. 

You were looking for a job in New York and noticed Stark Industries was looking for a secretary. You used to do secretary work in your hometown so you applied immediately. Sure you did not look the part but you did keep a mean schedule. You were called in for an interview by Tony Stark for Monday. 

As Monday rolled around, your nerves were going crazy. You dressed your best professional wear and drove to Stark Industries. A button up blouse, a black skirt, and black flats. You noticed the system JARVIS allowed you in and you saw Tony Stark in a lab.

“Morning. You must be the new secretary. Tony Stark.” He said as he held out his hand which was smeared with oil and grease.

“Y/n L/n. What do you mean new secretary?” You asked. 

“I went ahead and hired you. You’ll live here in Stark Industries. Don’t worry about it beautiful.” He said nonchalantly. 

“I don’t know what to say.” You said softly.

“Don’t say a word about it. Just take the position.” Tony said as you smiled.

“I will.” You said as he grinned.

“Perfect. You start tomorrow. Come on, let’s have a drink.” He said as you blushed.

“Bu-But-” 

"Nothing! We need to celebrate this!" Tony said proudly before pulling out some scotch and two glasses. 

As Tony picked up two glasses, one of them shattered on the floor and a few shards of glass cut your leg. 

"Ow!!" You both said loudly. Tony froze looking at your leg and his which suddenly also began to bleed. Your mind raced as you knew what this meant. Tony Stark is your soulmate and you had to go. 

You booked it with your bleeding leg back to your car in his garage. As you began to start it up and pull a first aid kid out of the backseat, you saw Tony was immediately behind your car so you couldn't leave. You sighed and rolled down your window.

"Mr. Stark please move now." You said as he crossed his arms.

"I'm not moving till you let me come sit with you and explain." Tony said as you sighed again. The doors unlocked and Tony got into the front seat. 

"How's your leg?" Tony asked as you hissed. 

"It will be fine. I just have to clean it and bandage. Yours?" You questioned as he smiled softly. 

"I wrapped it before I came out here. I feel like we need to discuss what occurred." Tony said as you finished placing the bandage. 

"What is there to talk about? You are soulmates with a fat chick that's your secretary. That's what this is about. Just go ahead and fire me and we do not have to see each other." You rambled before feeling Tony's hand on yours. 

"Y/n please let me speak." He said softly before you sighed. 

"Go ahead." You said as he turned your face to look at him. 

"I knew my soulmate was thicker than most girls I have dated. I was honestly happy to see someone different. Just imagining holding your warm and soft body against mine will be a change. Just having someone who is a lot softer will make my life so much different. When you first walked into the building, my mind was already set on asking you out. It wasn't until the glass shattering that it gave me assurance to ask you out." Tony said. 

"But I'm just some fat girl." You sighed. 

"But I do not care. You've had to deal with my injuries of creating Iron Man and I'm surprised you don't hate me. You are not just "some fat girl". You are so much more and I would love to prove that to you." He said as you chuckled.

"I honestly thought you worked in a factory." You said as he threw his head back and laughed. 

"Please give me a chance as your soulmate Y/n. I promise to treat you well." Tony said as you were blushing. 

"I will." You said as he kissed your lips. It felt like a missing puzzle piece fit right in and your lips moulded so well.

When you broke off the kiss, you turned your car off so the two of you could go back into Stark Industries where you moved in later and became his soulmate for a long time. 

[noroi1000]

May I request something which is sort of a scenario as a part of the the recent mafia gojo fic since as it has arranged marriage if i were to be expanding this request it would also be an arranged marriage too so it would be better if connected to the mafia gojo oneshot. So basically the scenario could be in their wedding life when they didn't have kids and it's basically reader's ability to be playful and cheerful when she wants to which is a loveable traits of hers and here in this scenario reader n gojo r making fun of the people they hate in the mafia world while reading is dramatically impersonating them perfectly making both gojo n reader laugh when gojo guesses the right person who reader is impersonating which is just many of the reasons gojo gave up his playboy life because of falling deeply in love with her even though she might not reciprocate his love but certainly treats him well. This could be a scenario when they're on their luxurious honeymoon trip but again not an necessary

( Sorry if this wasn't clear as english is not my native language ) 

I don't love him, but I want to be with him 3

"Haha! And then – And then Gakuganji always makes silly faces!” He said laughing.

He suddenly grabbed his cheeks, pulling them down slightly, simulating that he had wrinkles.

And he also stretched his jaw forward to lisp and change his voice.

You laughed when you heard his stories about the people who attended their meetings.

This Gakuganji is an elder from another mafia.

He is like an antiquated tree, but the older he gets, the more he needs.

Especially when it comes to their contract with the Gojo family.

The old man was in several other mafias for many years. But they were all the strongest.

You were laughing at him because every time he sees someone from Gojo, he looks like he suddenly got rabies.

You've seen him once or twice, and you confirm what your husband says.

This man looks like a bulldog that's already wrinkled too much. He gets a sudden rage when he sees Satoru and wants to attack. Whenever she yells at him, it sounds like he's barking.

You watched as Satoru twisted his face with his fingers, and started mimicking what the old man said.

"Young man.... Respect your elders.... You damn brat.... The youth of today have no respect at all... Gojo Satoru, don't be a child and stop smiling!" he said, faking his voice, only to lie down on the couch later and laugh with a little red on his cheeks from the heat inside the room.

When your laughter died down, you wanted to ask him something.

Have you ever wondered why his head is so big...

"Satoru, I have a question." You said before giggling softly. "Why does his head look like a melon that is slowly molding?"

He gave you a questioning look before bursting out laughing, imagining a melon with a gray beard and those brows like moths.

"Don't you think he looks a bit like a moth?" he asked hugging a pillow to his chest.

You corrected yourself as you sat in the chair next to him.

"Moth?" You grunted suddenly imagining a moth yelling at Satoru.

You started laughing.

He, when he imagined a moth in his clothes, also began to laugh. A hairy insect that holds a wooden cane.

Laughing, he shifted to the side, and suddenly fell off the couch, hitting the wooden floor with a thud.

He uttered a soft "uh" as he fell, but he continued to laugh as the image of the Gakuganji moth still lingered in his mind.

Before you could ask if he was okay, you imagined his face falling off his head, from old age.

"What this time? Tell me!" he moaned with a red face.

"After all, he looks like his face has started to roll down from old age..." you muttered.

"You're right! Go down!" He laughed, laying on his back. "He's going to be walking on his own beard soon! I'm waiting for him to ride bike and he'll get caught in the chain of his bike now!"

You had enough, you kept laughing.

Your faces were red when you couldn't breathe properly and your faces were already aching from smiling.

You got down from your chair wanting to get a drink because laughing really made you thirsty for water.

Walking forward, you caught your foot on the mafia boss - your husband - lying on the floor.

Falling onto his chest, you laughed, not even bothering to get down.

You do not care.

You can rest like this...

Lying on top of him, you listened to his breathing and his soft laugh. Also laughing all the time.

You sat down suddenly on his stomach and smiled as you dug your finger into his chest.

"Guess who I'm pretending to be, okay?" You grunted as you waited for his response.

"Only if I get a reward~." He gave you a smile.

"What's that?" You asked slightly serious, but there was still a smile on your lips.

"Kiss~."

You looked at him questioningly.

"Fine. You'll get a kiss." you put your finger on his cheek. "Then guess who it is."

Suddenly you took an empty glass from the table and pretended to drink something.

"Nanami?" he asked seeing you pretending.

You can pretend to drink tea.

You shook your head.

You pushed the glass away and brought it closer again, tapping the edge of your hand lightly on the neck. Hoping it will look like you're showing you're drinking alcohol.

"Hmm... Shoko?" he asked, placing two fingers on his chin.

You shook your head again.

You took the glass and pretended to drink very greedily.

"Oh! That Zenin Drunker!" he chuckled pointing at you.

"You guessed it." You smiled. "So your reward."

You leaned in and placed your lips on his soft cheek.

At the same time, he grabbed your arms and flipped you onto your side so you were underneath him.

As he grabbed your thighs, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

He connected your lips in a long kiss.

You didn't mind him touching you.

You've been in this forced marriage for a few months now, and there's a lot more going on between you than just hugging and kissing.

You put your hands on his shoulders, pushing him away so you could catch your breath.

Your relationship as lovers allows you to do that.

"I remember what happened on our honeymoon." he said with a smile as he gently placed his stomach and hips against your body. Still keeping part of his body on the forearms that were on either side of your head.

"I didn't want it."

"But you rode with me anyway." replied. "And it was on this island where we were, I really realizing that you are the woman I'm starting to fall in love with."

You looked at him, slightly disbelieving.

You can't get used to him saying that...

He still does it, even if it would hurt anyone to know that someone they love doesn't feel the same way.

It would be really painful. But he doesn't show it.

Because it's enough for him that you like him. That you treat him as a close person without love.

That you're with him, and you're happy about it.

He knew that now, after these few months with him, you don't want to change that.

Your behavior and all you made him feel that you are important to him. Even if you don't love him, he will still love you.

Every time he looked into your eyes, he felt like he was drowning in it. He was drowning in feeling.

It was the first love he had.

Even if there was something before you, it wasn't the same.

He's never been married before. He didn't know what it was like.

And now that he's bound to you somehow forever, he felt different.

"But I... I'm sorry..." you muttered.

"I do not mind. You will still be with me. After all, you're happy." he said with a smile. "We're together."

"I like being with you."

He was glad to hear that.

Even if you didn't love him, you treated him the way a wife treats her husband.

He gave up his life for you.

You placed your hands on his cheeks, stroking them gently.

You want to do something to make your happiness last much longer.

Something so that your happiness does not disappear.

You want to be with him all the time.

To keep your life like this, you can do anything to just be with it longer.

And suddenly he called back.

"Have you ever thought about children?"